


A Source of Strength

by CoffeeQuill



Series: Love Like You [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Yoda Acquisition, Bounty Hunters, Emotional Baggage, Everyone Has Issues, Families of Choice, Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost(s), Found Family, Mandalorian Culture, Original Character(s), Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Force, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: I wish you could understand,Din thinks,all the things I’m trying to do for you.He watches the kid focus on every block and put it all together. He wishes desperately that somehow, surviving the galaxy together could be easier, that they could start over and do things right.It’s all for you.-----After years, Din and the kid have settled into life in the covert, but the Force has other plans.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Paz Vizla
Series: Love Like You [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581040
Comments: 183
Kudos: 844





	1. The Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> So begins the next part of the journey. Takes place roughly 6-7 years after the events of Wisdom.
> 
> Tags are not complete to preserve spoilers, but what does need to be tagged is there.
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

When a ship lands on a dry, dusty surface, it shudders and creaks but holds together. Its engines power down, it settles into stillness, and for a few moments nothing happens. Then, it begins to groan, the sound of a vacuum, as its hatch begins to open until the ramp is on the ground.

From the ship emerges two Mandalorians. One shorter, one taller, and both strapped with weapons. 

“Fob is going off,” says the shorter.

“They’re here.” The taller begins to walk forward and the other follows as the hatch closes. “Keep the fob. You find them.”

“Really?”

“Really. Be quick, or they’ll find out we’re here and run.”

Din Djarin glances at his companion out of the corner of his eye, watching to be sure she’s beside him. At 16, Ari Tero is shaping to be a formidable Mandalorian and has a mind for bounty hunting. But she is his  _ vod’ad.  _ He is in charge of her safety.

Griphin and Ali’i will kill him if he let their child get hurt under his watch.

They walk into town, and Ari is holding out the fob like a detector, watching the way it pulses. Din reaches out, lowers her arm. “Stop,” he says. “You look ridiculous.”

“What?”

“You’re holding a tracking fob right out in front of you. You’re broadcasting that you’re a hunter. Being a Mandalorian gets you enough attention, so don’t make it obvious to these people that you might be after one of their buddies.”

“Oh.”

“Keep it on your belt. Let it beep. We’ll try the closest watering hole first, see if we can at least hear their name.”

“Seems like we’re  _ definitely  _ broadcasting our presence there,” Ari says.

“Some things can’t be helped. There’s two of us. They might just assume we’re traveling rather than hunting. That’s why you keep the fob on your belt and don’t ask too many questions.”

_ “Ba’vodu  _ Paz says you’re too cautious on hunts.”

“Paz doesn’t know shit about my hunts.”

Ari snorts. They walk into town, venturing into the square stepping past people. They get strange, wary looks, the townsfolk becoming uncomfortable with the presence of two Mandalorians. They whisper and turn away from them, a reaction that Din has long become used to, but Ari shifts and looks around.

“Don’t react,” he says, his voice quiet enough that it's only heard on their comms line. “You’re  _ Mando.  _ They will always stare. They will always fear you.”

“Why do they have to fear us?”

“Everyone fears what they don’t understand. They don’t understand us.  _ Cuy ogir'olar.” _

Ari becomes quiet.

Din looks over and spots the opening to a cantina, its door closing behind someone. 

_ “Ogir,”  _ he says, and Ari looks over. They begin walking towards it, stepping through the crowd, and for just a moment they’re split by a moving group. Din’s chest tightens. Then, when Ari reappears at his side again, he can relax. He  _ knows  _ she can hold her own in a fight. She can even give him significant trouble before a takedown, when they have their own sparring matches—she’s quick, like him. The Armorer would not have granted her permission to hunt with Din if the covert did not see her as worthy.

But, he supposes, she will always be an overzealous little girl in his mind.

The cantina is loud, quieting down as many turn to see the Mandalorians. Din walks forward, towards an empty table, and Ari follows. It’s only when they sit down that the patrons begin turning back to their own conversations, though tension hangs in the air.

“I like catching them in the open better,” Ari mutters.

“We all do.” Din hates this as much as she does. He doesn’t like being in a small space, full of unknown hostiles, when he doesn’t know their allegiance. They could all be friends of the target. They could turn on them as soon as they realize who they’re here for. He can handle a bar fight, but he has Ari to worry about. She’s only freshly taken her Creed. She’s inexperienced.

“Fob,” he says.

“Going off.” Ari sucks in a breath. “I think he’s here.”

They’re looking for a bail jumper. Their hunts are usually bail jumpers, lesser convicts, the sort of hunts Din would usually pass on in favor of more danger. All the good pucks have been going to Paz. But Ari has to learn the basics and taking down dangerous outlaws and smugglers will have to wait.

All the money goes to the covert, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter if it's him or Paz who gets it. But he scowls anyway.

Under the table, Ari slips out the fob. It’s quiet against the chatter of the room, a relief, and Din glances down at it. Yes, their target is nearby, if not in the room. He looks around, then slides the puck out. Under the table, he lights it, and the figure of their mark pops up.  _ Gharite Slaverik.  _ A human man.  _ Careful,  _ Din had said,  _ bail jumpers can still be dangerous if they’re desperate. _

Finally, a figure on the other side shifts. Din feels a stare. He looks up, makes eye contact with a man, and doesn’t move. The description matches. “There. Keep your blaster ready. He should come quiet if there’s two of us, but be ready for trouble.”

Ari looks up. She stiffens, ready to jump, and Din is the same. Then, he stands, and once again the bar falls quiet. With Ari at his heels, they walk across, and Din stops in front of the man. He places the puck down, then activates it. Ari stands at his shoulder. The man looks them up and down.

“Bounty hunters,” he says.

Din doesn’t speak.

“Guild, I guess?”

Din’s hand slips down towards his blaster.

“Are you the Mandalorian who took off with an asset after collection? That story made its way around.”

Ari stiffens. Din reaches out and takes the puck, then slides his blaster out of its holster.

“I can bring you in warm,” he says. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

Slaverik stares at them, his eyes narrowing. Then, he stands, scooting his chair back, and stands, holding his hands out. “Fine,” he says. “I’m guessing I have no chance against two Mandalorians.”

_ “Slanar,”  _ Din says. Ari nods and reaches for her belt, pulling off a pair of cuffs, and steps forward. She begins placing them on Slaverik’s wrists. Her movements are quick but careful, working to secure him before he can make a sudden move. Din keeps his blaster primed, muscles tensed.

Slaverik makes no move. Din slides his blaster into its holster and turns. The entire cantina has gone silent and is watching. Din moves his hands in a gesture.  _ Stay behind him.  _ Ari makes an affirmative hum and they walk to the door, out into the dry air and the setting sun. They begin the walk back towards the  _ Crest. _

“Seems all clear,” Ari says. Her voice rings in his earpiece through the helmets, and she must’ve turned off her modulator’s projector -- or, better have. Din reaches up and switches off his own.

“Keep an eye out,” he says. “It’s not safe until we’re on the ship and the door’s shut.”

“Loud and clear.”

The town seems quiet. Most of the crowd from minutes ago has disappeared, leaving the square empty and desolate. Din feels his skin crawl with warning. He glances over both shoulders, then mutters,  _ “Tsikador.” _

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Just take your blaster out.”

He grips his own. They’re moving towards the edge of town, and they’ll have no cover from the outskirts until they’re standing in the ship. He looks around at the rooftops, scanning, listening. Nothing comes. But paranoia sits in the pit of his stomach. He stops walking, gripping the blaster.

_ “Ba’vodu?”  _ Ari says.

Then the plasma bolt strikes the ground just in front of his feet.

Din drops into a crouch, “Sniper!” When a second shot doesn’t immediately follow, he stands and grabs Slaverik by the cuffs and jerks him towards the nearest door. “Get behind cover!” 

He kicks the door open and it gives way. He shoves Slaverik through, then follows just inside the doorway as another blaster finds its mark against his beskar. It deflects, though, and he only stumbles forward before recovering. Ari slides into the building behind him, immediately rolling over to her stomach and getting up.

_ “Bral!”  _ she says, pointing upwards. “They’ve got a wall thrown up on the roof. They’re sniping through a slot.”

Din swears. “Did we  _ miss  _ that?”

“No, I don’t think so. It looks makeshift. New.”

A shuffle from behind makes him look over. Slaverik is getting to his feet, taking a creeping step towards the far door, and Din raises his blaster. “Watch it!” he hisses. “We don’t need you alive.”

The man stares at him, then slowly begins to go to his knees.  _ How does a person like this get friends to pull a trigger for him?  _ he thinks. Then he turns and unclasps his Amban’s strap, bringing it around. “Are any exposed?”

Ari leans forward to get a look up, then jumps back as another bolt misses her by inches. “Just barely. They’re leaning out to shoot, but you won’t get them otherwise.” She pauses, then looks at Din. “There’s a door over there. I can run across and draw their fire for them to shoot.”

“What? No,” Din says. “That’s too dangerous.”

“They’re not that good. I’m fast. You’ll have the shot.”

“No!”

“Din!” Ari huffs. “I have beskar. I’ll be fine. I only see a few of them. We’ll be stuck here otherwise!”

Din stares at her, then sighs, adjusting the rifle. “... Fine. Do it.”

Ari nods, then stands, just out of sight of the shooters. Din moves to beside the doorway, his back against the wall, ready to turn. They nod to each other. Din’s stomach twists.

Then, a presence begins to prod at his mind, and he sucks in a breath. It’s familiar, so familiar, almost as intuitive as thinking itself. Sensing no barriers, the presence pushes in, worry and nervousness pressing in on Din.  _ Are you okay? _

_ Pinned down. We’ll be there soon. Stay there. _

_ I can help— _

_ Stay. There. _

He lifts his mental shields, and the presence reluctantly slips out.

“Ready,” he says, looking at Ari. “Okay--go!”

Ari drops into a sprint, through the doorway and out into the open. Din spins around and aims his rifle high, spotting the barricade--it’s mostly just weighted sacks thrown together, and there is a slot that they’re aiming through. Two pop into sight, aiming at Ari, their blasters tracking her.

Din holds his breath, steadying his shot, then pulls the trigger.

The charge slips through the slot and one of the assailants disappears in a burst of firey ash, disappearing from existence, and it earns startled yells from the others--only two more, unless others have hidden. Ari slams herself against the opposite building, protected by the metal shielding of the roof as it juts out overhead. Din makes eye contact with her, relieved.

Then a blaster shot barely misses his foot and Din jumps back, into the shadow of the wall. He glances over to see Slaverik still sitting, looking pale, his calm demeanor from earlier gone.  _ Thought they were going to save you?  _ he thinks with a snarl.

He pauses, then moves back from the door and chances a duck into their line of sight. Both shooters have taken up either side of the blockade and are steadily aiming, waiting. They fire another shot and Din throws himself out of the way, then climbs to his feet again. “Ari,” he says. He moves again, careful this time to be far away enough that only Ari sees him.  _ “Payt. Payt.”  _ He points upwards, then waves his left hand and points at her.

Ari stares at him, then nods and pulls both her blasters into her hands, holding them up. Din reaches down to his boot and pulls another charge, reloading. His blaster is ready, in case he misses, but he trusts Ari’s speed and aim to take care of both if he does.

“Three. Two… Go!”

Ari kicks off the wall and backs out into the sunlight, aiming high, as Din steps again into the doorway. Both shooters aim for Din at first, and one fires a bolt into the wall, while the other hesitates upon finally spotting Ari. He aims. Ari is faster. He screams as he takes two shots through the slot.

Din aims and pulls the trigger, his crosshair directly on the second shooter’s chest, and the man screams as he disintegrates into air. Both stand ready, breathing hard, and Din swings his rifle back over his shoulder. His hand slips to his blaster, but the town has fallen silent and no one else jumps out to attack.

_ “Utrel’a,”  _ Ari says, looking around.

_ All clear,  _ Din repeats in his head. He steps out of the building, then sees nothing. “Okay. Let’s go. Before anyone else shows up.”

Ari nods and holsters her blasters. Din turns and focuses his gaze on Slaverik. “Now,” he says in a rough voice, and Slaverik gives him a dirty look before he stands and walks over. Din gives him an encouraging shove out into the open, and with Ari behind them again, they begin to walk.

The  _ Crest  _ isn’t far. When they approach, the ramp begins to lower and standing aboard is a small creature, his ears flattened and with a worried expression on his face. “Hurt?” he demands, his voice echoing within the ship.

“We’re fine,” Din says. “Move.”

The kid is quick to step aside and out of the way as they walk up the ramp. Din turns towards Slaverik and pulls off his cuffs. The mark immediately begins to rub at his wrists as Ari hits the button to lift the ramp.

A weight lands on Din’s shoulder, light and clawed as it balances on his pauldron. Din doesn’t react, used to the movement, but Slaverik does. He stares at the kid, who plants a hand against Din’s helmet. “What the hell is  _ that?”  _ he demands.

Din doesn’t respond. He shoves Slaverik back, straight into the carbon freezer, and hits the button. Slaverik barely gets a yell out before he’s frozen, expression still contorted in a scream.

“You got that?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Ari says.

Din nods and turns, walking to the ladder, and he begins to climb up. Kuiil sticks to his pauldron with practiced ease. Only when he’s stepped into the cockpit and settled into the pilot’s seat does the kid slip down and into his lap. His ears are still down, and he leans against Din’s cuirass but doesn’t speak, his beskar vambraces glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windshield. His old robe is gone, worn out by years, and now he wears a similar one that fits better as well as small trousers beneath.

“What’s wrong,” Din says, less as a question.

Kuiil doesn’t respond, but then he mumbles something under his breath.

“Don’t mumble,  _ ad’ika.” _

“I’m always here.”

“What do you mean?”

“On hunts.”

Din lets out a low sigh as he begins flipping the switches for takeoff. “We talked about this. You can’t come. It’s too dangerous and you know that.”

“I can help.”

“No, you can’t.” Din reaches for a lever to start an engine. “You’re too young and too little.”

Kuiil throws a hand out. Din tries to pull the lever but it sticks and he stares at it for a moment before giving the kid a slight push. “Hey. Knock it off.”

“Ari goes,” he accuses. 

“Ari’s sworn the Creed and is permitted to leave by the matriarch,” Din says. On cue, Ari steps into the cockpit and slides into the co-pilot seat. “This is her training. You aren’t here to hunt—we’ve already had this discussion and it’s not going to change.”

_ “Buir!”  _ Kuiil whines.

“No. Let go of it.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Ari says as the engines finally turn on. They begin to lift off the ground. “You’re just not intimidating enough. All the targets will think you’re too cuddly to take you seriously.”

Then there’s a  _ thud  _ and a groan. Din whips around to see Ari was shoved against the back of her seat and is now rubbing at her neck beneath her helmet, wincing.

_ “Hey,”  _ he snaps. “Apologize.”

_ “Buir!”  _ Kuiil whines, “She said—“

“No, I don’t care. You don’t get to do that to  _ anyone.” _

The kid shrinks back, then mumbles a half-hearted apology. He can feel the kid’s moodiness but he just sighs and focuses on pulling them out of the atmosphere and up into the stars.

“Then why do I come?” Kuiil finally asks, after a few moments of silence.

“Because—“ Din pauses. “You want to come.”

“So?”

Din frowns, his hands hesitating. “So you get to come. The reason is—“ he pauses. “You were smaller. You don’t remember it. The first time I took you to Takodana.”

Kuiil stares up at him. “What does that…”

“It does relate. I bring you because of what happened.”

Ari snorts. “I remember Uncle Paz attacking you.”

Kuiil turns quick to stare up at Din. Din grumbles, “I did something I shouldn’t have. The wrong way.”

“What?”

“We’re not getting into it now.” The stars come into view, the atmosphere left behind, and Din puts in coordinates for Nevarro. “We’re still on the job. We need to get the bounties to Karga and get our money. You two can argue it out later.”

Ari leans forward in her seat. “We should take the higher bounties,” she says. “The bail jumpers are getting boring. That last one was the most exciting I’ve ever had.”

“The bail jumpers are your level,” Din says. “You’re not a hunter yet.”

“I’m never going to improve if I keep doing the same stuff over and over. I want something hard. Something dangerous.”

“I’m not putting you in danger on purpose,” Din says. “And danger for the sake of danger is only going to get you killed. You do it because that’s the job. The bail jumpers aren’t thrilling but they’re less likely to kill you and we can take several at a time.”

Ari groans. “Fine,  _ buir.” _

Din turns to give her a look. The kid makes an annoyed squeak. Ari stares back for a moment, then grumbles.  _ “Ba’vodu.  _ Sorry.”

“That’s better.” Din turns back to the console.

The room down in the cargo hold is getting cramped with the amount of assets that have been stored and Din can’t simply send one of the kids down there to make them behave. The last time he tried, it only prompted more whining from either one about the cramped space. Ari and Kuiil  _ are  _ friends, cousins, but they’ve bickered more since Ari started riding along on hunts.

Din thinks the kid doesn’t like splitting his attention. Kuiil will huff and deny it. Yet when they arrive home, the bickering disappears.

After a few minutes, Ari walks out and down into the hold to eat. Moments later, the kid looks up at Din, then hops up onto Din’s shoulder, resting on his pauldron. He curls up there, and for a moment all is silent again.

“What is it?” Din asks.

Kuiil makes a tired, conflicted noise in his throat, then crouches down, clinging to the pauldron with both hands and feet. Din has to make sure both pauldrons are secure and unmoving for Kuiil’s sake. “Bad dream,” he mumbles.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Din asks.

“No. I don’t… get it.” The kid shifts on the plate. He makes another soft noise. “You hunted me,” he says. “When you found me.”

A hot stone forms in Din’s stomach. His grip tightens on the joystick. “I did.”

“Like that?”

“No. Not like that. You don’t remember enough of it.”

“Some. Cara.”

Din rolls his eyes. “You don’t remember Cara from  _ then.  _ You know her because we’ve seen her since.”

“Kuiil.”

That makes Din take a deep breath. “Yeah. Kuiil. I gave you his name. He died trying to protect you.”

“I remember… fire. I think there was fire. There is in dreams. And you.” Kuiil looks at him. His gaze feels piercing through Din’s visor. “When did you… why—when you...  _ kir’manir?” _

“Adopt you,” Din mumbles. “When and why did I adopt you.”

Kuiil nods.

“Because…” Din pauses. “You were a foundling. That’s what you do with foundlings.”

He’s hit with a wave of dissatisfaction and the kid huffs.  _ “Buir.” _

“Look.” Din sighs. “It’s complicated. It all happened years ago. The Empire… they wanted you, and were willing to pay in beskar. I… took the bounty. Then I realized my sin and took you back. I adopted you after.”

“Why?” Kuiil asks, his voice soft.

“You were my son. You started calling me  _ buir.  _ I called you  _ ad’ika.  _ The covert had exposed itself so I could escape with you in my arms. It was just… that was natural.” Din shrugs. “You’re  _ Mando.  _ A  _ Mando’ade.  _ You wear  _ beskar’gam,  _ speak our words, live as a Mandalorian. I spoke the  _ gai bal manda  _ and now what happened before doesn’t matter, only what happens now.”

Kuiil falls quiet.  _ “Cin vhetin,”  _ he whispers.

“Right. Clean slate. You’re one of us, now. You’re my son. There are a lot of things I regret, but taking you as mine isn’t one of them.”

The kid makes a warm sound, leaning against Din’s helmet, and satisfaction simmers in their bond. Din lifts a hand to pet along his back, then returns it to flying. “I know you want to come on hunts,” he says. “I get it. One day, you will. But not today. Not soon. You have to wait.”

Kuiil sighs, but he doesn’t push it, and he just stays in place.

Din reaches for the hyperdrive.

Nevarro is the same as it’s always been. Full of hunters. Full of questionable characters. Din only has one destination in mind when he enters the atmosphere and he keeps a hand on his blaster when he steps off the ship.

Ari is at his side. The kid is seated on a pauldron, clinging to the beskar, and holds himself close to Din’s helmet so he can feel less exposed. They walk into the town, heading straight through, and eyes turn to stare. Many stop what they’re doing to watch. Neither human Mandalorian acknowledges it, but Kuiil looks around with nervous eyes, and his claws dig in tighter.

This place is full of bad memories for them both.

They walk straight to the common house, making the last turn, and Din walks to the door of the cantina. He pauses, then looks at Ari. “Remember. You don’t—“

“I don’t talk. You’ll handle it. I just watch. I know.”

Din nods. He hits the button and the door slides open; inside is packed with hunters, with some that Din doesn’t recognize. It’s become a big mix since the time he snatched the kid. He steps inside, then down the stairs and begins sliding between hunters. As eyes turn to look, they begin to step away, making a path. Din heads for the booths, where Greef Karga sits with a drink.

Karga looks up, then smiles. “Ah. As fast as you usually are, then.”

Din takes out their fobs and places them on the table in a motion that’s almost muscle memory. Then, he takes off his rifle. On cue, Ari slides into the booth first, then Din sits. Putting himself between the kids and the rest of the hunters. It’s just instinct now.

He looks around for a familiar face. He doesn’t see her anywhere. So he turns back.

Karga looks the three of them over. He reaches into his pocket and takes out the credits, placing them down one by one. “How’s the kid?” he asks, eyes flickering towards the child. Kuiil makes an uncomfortable mumble and shuffles closer to Din’s helmet.

“He’s fine,” Din says.

“You ever gonna tell me who your partner there is?”

It’s a lighthearted inquiry. Karga’s asked before. Like the times before, Din and Ari only stare, unforthcoming. Karga looks between them, clearly sensing that he won’t get a lighthearted response in return, as if he ever does. “Takes after you with the silence,” he comments. “Vizla speaks more. Your kid, too?”

“No,” Din says. When the bounty has been placed on the table, Din reaches across and takes it, sliding it over. He dumps it into a pouch and hands it to Ari, who clips it to her belt. “Leave it alone.”

Karga eyes him, then nods and leans back. “I’m just surprised. I only ever saw one of you at a time and now there seems to be more.”

“Things changed,” Din says. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Karga doesn’t look satisfied but he doesn’t push. He reaches into a pocket and begins to pull out bounty pucks, placing each one down at a time. “You take the bail jumpers lately, so I presume you want more?”

Din pauses. He’s acutely aware of Kuiil on his shoulder, and Ari shifts pointedly beside him, her knee bumping his. He’s silent for a moment. “No,” he says. “We’re not taking any right now. Other business to attend to.”

Ari stiffens beside him. “What?” she says. Even the kid makes a puzzled noise. Din gives her a sharp look, then grabs his rifle and begins to stand.

“Other business,” he repeats. “We’re going.”

“Wait, Mando,” Karga calls. “Sit. I’ve got something that you might want in particular.”

Din pauses. He looks at Karga, then slowly begins to sit again. “Puck?”

“No puck for this. It’s not a typical hunt.” Karga glances at Kuiil. “You’re familiar with those.”

Din stares at him, then reaches up and pulls the kid off his shoulder. Kuiil makes a squeak as he falls into Din’s arms. “What?” Din asks, unamused. “If this is another--”

“No, no. Calm down. I’m not sending you to the Empire again. No puck or fob, because this isn’t a bounty hunt or Guild work. I can’t offer this to the others, but I can for a Mandalorian. I thought Vizla would be here sooner, but you’re here now.” Karga smirks, then leans closer. “Your clan might be interested.”

“Spit it out,” Din snaps. “What is it and how many credits?”

“No credits. Personal.” Karga folds his hands together. “I’ve come into possession of some intel regarding Moff Gideon and his cohorts.”

Din tenses, his grip on Kuiil tightening. “What about him?” he says.

“A base is being built on a moon. Small, under the New Republic’s radar. I have the coordinates to send you and the payment is ensuring this little one’s safety. Your covert flushed them out of this town, I’m sure you’re capable of hitting the Empire again before they have any strength built up.”

Din frowns. “I’ll mention it to the others.” He begins to stand again, holding his rifle in one hand and cradling the kid in the other.

Karga frowns. “I thought you’d be all over it,” he says. “To strike a blow against Moff Gideon before he can strike you first?”

“We aren’t all mercenaries,” Din says. “If Gideon shows himself, we’ll run him off again. We won’t risk Mandalorians on an unnecessary job and it isn’t my decision anyway. And we’re not going to mess with the Empire just to keep Gideon from seeking revenge against  _ you _ .”

Karga stares at him. Then, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone  _ soft,  _ Mando,” he accuses. “You were going to burn this whole town to the ground to get that kid back and now you don’t seem interested in protecting him.”

“Come on,” Din says to Ari.

_ “Mando.” _

“Send me the coordinates and I’ll speak with the covert,” Din snaps. “Leave it at that. I can’t promise anything.”

Karga doesn’t say any more.

Din turns and walks to the door, Ari trailing behind, and Kuiil squirms until Din loosens his hold. Kuiil climbs up and back onto a shoulder. As soon as they’ve left the bar, the door sliding shut behind them, Ari jogs to come to his side. “What the hell?” she says, and ignores his sharp look. “We don’t have any pucks.”

“We don’t,” Din says.

“I’m supposed to be hunting with you.”

“Not anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re going home,” Din says. “We’ll stop at the covert and drop you off. Paz can take you along on his hunts. The kid and I have things to do.”

Ari huffs. “Like what?”

“I need to take him to Takodana.” 

At this, Kuiil makes a whine. “No!” he says. “I--  _ buir, yaim.” _

“We  _ are  _ going home. Then to your lessons.”

“Nooo!”

Din rolls his eyes beneath the helmet.  _ “Both  _ of you need to stop. You’re going home and you’re going to Maz. I’m not arguing about it.”

Both kids fall silent. Through their bond, the child is projecting moodiness and irritation, so Din pushes up a shield and blocks him out. The presence gives a harsh shove against the shield as Kuiil also makes a whine,  _ “buir,”  _ but the shield holds and Din doesn’t respond.

Then the presence disappears, and Din lets the shield fall as they walk towards the ship. The wind blows harsh as ships around them land and take off, and they walk up into the  _ Crest. _

“Y’know,” Ari says, “it’s weird. It’s been years and the Empire is still after him. You’d think they’d have given up after so long.”

“Yeah, well,” Din grumbles, “let’s just hope they’re the only ones.”


	2. The Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takodana is as beautiful as Din remembers, with the sun rising high over the trees as the Razor Crest lands in a familiar clearing. They’re a few minutes away from the castle and Din walks off the ramp, looking around at the trees.
> 
> Behind him, the kid follows, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

When they walk through the covert’s door, he has two grumpy _ ade  _ on his heels who haven’t said a word since touching down.

One wants to be here and nowhere else. One would rather be anywhere but here.

Din opens the door and pushes aside the curtain, stepping inside, and begins down a curving flight of stairs. The covert’s new location since Nevarro is an abandoned warehouse basement, leaving plenty of rooms big and small for their use. Din steps down into the corridor and walks along, the collected credits in his hand.

Kuiil follows along, his shoulders slumped. He wants to be home, Din knows, but they’re only staying the night. Then, he lets out a shriek of  _ “Ba’vodu! Su’cuy!”  _ and Din stops, turning to look down at the kid by his feet and then up.

_ “Su’cuy.”  _ Paz stands in the nearest doorway, a small boy held on his hip. Broedy Fost stares at Din with the wide eyes of a two-year-old, his fingers in his mouth, far too young for a helmet. He then looks sleepy, turning his head and leaning against Paz’s side. Paz nods at Din.  _ “Su cuy’gar.” _

Din nods back. “Still alive,” he affirms. “With credits.”

“The best kind of alive,” Paz says, adjusting the toddler. Both chuckle. Kuiil has wandered over to Paz and put both hands against his shin guard, staring up at him.

_ “Geroya!”  _ he requests.

“Could you keep an eye on him?” Din says. “I have to talk to the matriarch.”

Paz nods and crouches down, holding out a hand to the child. Kuiil takes his hand and squeaks, “Broedy!” and giggles when he’s swung up and onto Paz’s other arm. “Whee!”

Din smiles to himself, then turns and continues down the hall.

Faint hammering is a familiar sound in the covert and Din follows it to the forge. He turns the corner and sees the Armorer standing before her forge, her back to him as she dips metal into the flames. Quiet and reverent, Din sits down and waits, the pouch of credits in his hand.

It takes a few minutes before the Armorer speaks. “You’ve returned.”

Din nods.

“With both of your charges intact?”

“And plenty of credits,” Din says. He reaches out and places the pouch on the table.

“How does Ari fare?”

“She’s doing well. She has a good head on her shoulders, but she’s a little too eager. She wants more difficult hunts than I’m giving her.”

“You don’t think she can handle more difficulty?”

“I don’t think she has the discipline yet. She has the tenacity but not the experience.”

“Do you plan to give her the experience?” the Armorer asks. When Din doesn’t respond, she continues. “Experience leads to knowledge and understanding. If you only give her the hunts you deem easy, she’ll only know easy. You have to be willing to leave some things to chance.”

“Griphin and Ali’i wouldn’t forgive me if their daughter was hurt under my watch,” Din says.

“A Mandalorian’s training should not revolve around the comfort of their  _ buir’e.  _ None want to see their children in danger, but this is life. You had to learn to hunt through your own difficulties. Allow Ari to do the same.”

Din frowns. “I’ll consider. But I can’t take her right now. Paz can take her out with him.”

“Paz has elected to stay here for a time, to assist Asaara with Broedy. Why aren’t you going out?”

“Kuiil needs more training,” he says. “It’s been a long time.”

“How are his powers?”

“Fine. He has small outbursts of strength when he’s upset, but they aren’t serious.” Din shifts on his seat.

“When does he become upset?”

“When he thinks I’m leaving. He just doesn’t like being away from me. He can just barely handle me going on hunts, and that’s a recent thing.”

“He is attached.”

“Too attached. I think he’s afraid of the outside world. He relaxes when we’re here or on the ship but not out there.” Din frowns. “It’s… concerning, but I think he’s okay.”

The Armorer looks at him. “You musn’t underestimate what he’s been through,” she says. “What he may have experienced before he came into your care, and even what he has experienced since. It took much to protect him. Much to get him under the tutelage of Maz Kanata.”

Din feels his face heat. While the kid has few concrete memories of such a time, his mind too young then to hold on and with many memories blurring into each other, the covert has not. With every wail or cry to protest Din leaving without him, the Mandalorians’ gazes became much heavier.

“I know,” he admits. “I know. It stems from that time. I understand.”

“His upbringing is not only on your shoulders, Din. You can seek help. We have all invested in protecting the little one—some, more than others.”

Din winces. Ceejas’s death is still a fresh wound amongst the covert, leaving Broedy without his father and the covert without another member. “Speaking of protection,” he says, “Greef Karga offered me something. He says he has coordinates on a secret Imperial base being built on a moon, under Moff Gideon’s orders. For us to hit.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said we’d consider. But I don’t see it as realistic. Scrapping with this Imperial remnant has already cost us plenty.”

The Armorer is quiet for a moment, then nods. “You are right,” she says, “we do not have the numbers nor strength to make the first move. With every encounter, we risk drawing Gideon to our doorstep. For the sake of the covert, we cannot do so.”

Din nods.

“But have Karga transmit the coordinates if he hasn’t already. Circumstances may change. They may come in handy. Replenish your stores and rest before you take Kuiil to Takodana.”

“I will.” Din stands. “Thank you.”

The Armorer nods and returns to her work.

After Din has showered and redressed, giving his armor a thorough scrubdown, he ventures out again into the halls of the covert. He finds a group gathered in the main chamber of the basement, sitting in front of the holocaster, playing a program from the HoloNet. It looks like some sort of children’s entertainment, with action characters fighting each other with a soft voiceover.

He recognizes Paz, Griphin, Ali’i, and Jaylen, as well as a few of the older foundlings that have gathered together away from the holocaster. Broedy is standing directly in front of the broadcast, staring at it, and Kuiil is sitting beside Paz with his hand outstretched as he lifts and arranges a collection of wooden blocks. He builds a wall of blocks, then lifts it all apart at once and begins a cube instead, fitting it all together.

He looks up as Din approaches, then turns back to his blocks. The bond between them thrums with the kid’s irritation and Din won’t begrudge him for it, not now. Instead, he places a shield up to cut off the irritation, and the kid looks at him again, then away quickly.

Din ignores it. He walks over and takes a seat, beside Ali’i. She turns her head towards him. “I’m leaving Ari here for now,” he says. “The kid and I have other things to do.”

“I heard,” Ali’i says, and her voice is warm. She’s the type of Mandalorian who, like the Armorer, is only rough and vicious when she must be. Not the type to engage in a brawl. “She’s rather upset with you for it. Locked herself in her room and all.”

“I understand it.”

“It’s dramatic.” Ali’i must be rolling her eyes, or her tone at least suggests it. “Don’t worry over her. She’s always been far too spirited. She’ll get over it.”

“She’s turning into a fine warrior,” Din says. “She’ll be a phenomenal hunter one day.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Ali’i says. “We appreciate you being so willing to train her. But your own  _ ad’ika  _ must come first.” She looks towards Kuiil. “His control of his powers is more pressing than Ari learning to hunt. Is he feeling alright?”

“He’s upset with me, too,” Din says. “He wants to stay here. He’s been homesick. He wants to help hunt, but there’s no way I could let him. It’s risking too much. Training with Maz isn’t something he wants to do, but if I keep putting it off we’ll never get there.”

Ali’i nods in sympathy. “He’s grown much in the last few years, but he’s still very small,” she says. “And very young, with all the impulses and inexperience that come with youth. He doesn’t know what’s best for himself.”

“Sometimes, I question if I do actually know what’s best.”

“Training to use his power is what’s best right now,” Ali’i says, a smile in her voice. “So you’re on the right track.”

Din manages a smile beneath the helmet, then looks towards the kid.

He’s made a pyramid now -- leaving few mistakes, every block pressed together and even on all sides. Din watches, seeing the blocks shift just slightly to be perfect. Kuiil looks bored as he lifts it all apart and starts over with something new.

Broedy has turned from the holocaster and is now staring at the blocks as they lift and spread through the air, eyes big with fascination. He stumbles forward and nearly falls but catches himself, reaching up high for a block. “Coh-coh-copnir!” he yells, straining to reach, and he whimpers.

_ “Copaanir,”  _ Paz corrects. He reaches out and places a hand on Broedy’s side to keep him from falling. “Ask. Ask for a block.”

Broedy stares at Paz, then looks at Kuiil. “Can--Can have?” he says. “Play? Play with… the bl- the block?”

Kuiil nods. One block floats down to Broedy’s outstretched hand, and the baby coos as he sits down with the block in his hand. He gazes at it admirably before giving it a shake, and Kuiil returns to building various shapes.

_ I wish you could understand,  _ Din thinks,  _ all the things I’m trying to do for you.  _ He watches the kid focus on every block and put it all together. He wishes desperately that somehow, surviving the galaxy together could be easier, that they could start over and do things right.

_ It’s all for you. _

The next morning, Din has to wake the kid three times, and on the fourth he just lifts him out of bed and sits him on his hip as he checks their things. Their clothes have been washed and repacked and the kid is too sleepy to keep arguing about staying.

_ “Buir,”  _ the kid whines, burying his face in Din’s side.  _ “Haryc.” _

“You can sleep on the ship.” Din slings his rifle over his shoulder, then lifts the bag of clothes. “Then it’ll be morning on Takodana when we get there and you’ll be awake for a whole day with Maz.”

Kuiil grumbles. His presence in Din’s mind feels annoyed but too lethargic to do anything about it. Instead his claws scratch against the beskar before finding a grip on Din’s flight suit beneath.

Satisfied that he has enough of their possessions, Din steps out and into the halls of the covert. There is low talking from down the corridor in the gathering room; it is late enough for most of the Mandalorians to be awake yet too early for loud noise. The scent of cooking breakfast waffs towards them, mouth watering, and the kid’s claws dig in.

_ “Buir,”  _ he mumbles.  _ “Copaanir kai’tome.” _

“We’ll eat on the ship,” Din says.

_ “Haashun?”  _ Kuiil grumbles.

“You don’t have to like the bread, you just have to eat it. It’s a ration, it gives you what you need.” Din adjusts the kid and shoulders his bag--then freezes when someone steps into their path. He stares at the Mandalorian, recognizing Ali’i’s armor.

“Here,” she says, holding a container in her hands. “Zhith made some for tonight, but he shouldn’t miss out. It has extra  _ uj’ayl  _ in it.”

The kid perks up straight away, staring at the sealed container of  _ uj’alayi  _ cake. “Ooh,” he coos, holding a hand out.

“Hey,” Din says firmly. “Be polite.”

Kuiil looks up at him, then hunkers down before looking at Ali’i again.  _ “Gedet’ye?”  _ Ali’i nods and hands over the container. Kuiil gets claws around it before pulling it to his chest.  _ “Vor’e!” _

“You’re welcome,” she says, a smile in her voice. She looks at Din and gives him a nod.  _ “Oya.” _

_ “Oya,”  _ Din responds, nodding in return.

She steps out of their way, returning to the room, and Din walks towards the steps. As they rise into the sunlight of the city, he reaches across and draws his cape across his back, draping over his shoulder. The kid falls beneath it and he makes no protest, long used to hiding.

Hunters may not track them and Moff Gideon may be far off, but the kid’s species isn’t known. Din would rather keep curious eyes off them, at least out of habit.

They pass through the city with little issue. The usual residents have grown used to the occasional sight of a Mandalorian passing through, and the ones who stare are usually travelers. Din walks them towards the  _ Crest,  _ heading through the usual side city exit that takes them around the market crowds.

When he hears scraping claws, he looks down at the kid trying to open the box. “Hey,” he says, jostling Kuiil. “Leave it alone. We’ll have it with dinner.”

_ “Buir,”  _ Kuiil whines.

“No. No sweets in the morning.”

The kid grumbles, but he doesn’t fight any more, and instead becomes quiet as they approach the shipyard.

Takodana is as beautiful as Din remembers, with the sun rising high over the trees as the  _ Razor Crest  _ lands in a familiar clearing. They’re a few minutes away from the castle and Din walks off the ramp, looking around at the trees.

Behind him, the kid follows, still blinking sleep from his eyes. The ramp begins to close. Eventually, there’s a grunt and a weight lands on his pauldron, familiar and sturdy as claws latch onto the edges.

“How long?” he asks, alert enough to speak in Basic.

“A few days,” Din says. “However long Maz wants you.”

Kuiil doesn’t whine or groan. Instead he shuffles closer to Din’s helmet, pressing against it. Din brings a hand up to him, steadying him. “What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Kuiil says. “... Nothing.”

“You feel worried. You know to tell me if something’s bothering you.”

“Something,” the kid admits. “But… don’t know what. It’s the Force. Something… weird.”

“Maz might be able to help.”

The kid makes a noise of agreement.

The castle soon comes into view, blocking out the sun as they approach the front and step into its shadow. The flags flutter in the breeze above them. The kid stares up at the statue, his emotions continuing to push against Din’s without intention. He’s nervous. It’s starting to make Din feel nervous himself.

Nothing can harm them here, Din thinks. Maz is a friend and her castle is safe. Din pulls open the door and steps inside, hit full force with the noise of loud conversations in a crowded bar. Kuiil looks around, eyes big. With their visits so sparse, things always seem different.

“Clan Djarin.”

Din nearly starts, but he’s gotten adjusted to Maz’s ability to avoid his detection with ease. He looks down at her, and she looks back at him, her arms crossed and with an amused smile.

Kuiil grumbles and leans against Din. Maz waves them on and begins to walk; Din follows. Their path out of the bar is familiar as they walk down a staircase, leading into the bowels of the castle and away from prying eyes.

“He is upset,” Maz says, as the noise of upstairs begins to fade away.

“He just wants to be home,” Din says. “Homesick.”

Maz nods in understanding.

When they reach the familiar training room, with the mats on the floor and lights shining in through a high window, the kid hops off his shoulder and lands on the ground in a crouch before standing. As Din sits on a mat, the kid takes the one beside him.

Maz sits across from them both. She hasn’t changed at all, at least to Din, still looking at him as though she can see his soul through his helmet. She looks at him, then sets her hands on her knees. “Put your shields up,” she commands.

Din does so. He closes his eyes and lets his head dip, imagining his shields raising to create a dome around his mind.  _ Strong as beskar.  _ He pictures multiple layers to the shield, tightly protecting his thoughts.

After a few moments, when his shields have finished adjusting, a presence begins to push. He trusts that it’s Maz--he doesn’t have the sense to know who exactly is trying to break through. He can feel the presence, though, and it radiates strength and authority. Must be Maz. Kuiil is far more emotional.

The presence begins to push  _ hard  _ against his walls. He sucks in a breath, feeling an ache begin as he has to push back equally. His palms begis to sweat. The presence backs off, then begins to shove again, this time with more strength.

Din grits his teeth against the growing ache in his head. He braces his hands against the floor.  _ No. No. Strong as beskar. Strong as beskar. _

He’s significantly better at this than he once was. Real focus and attentiveness to his concentration means his shields can be strong even when the Force is silent to him. But he surely isn’t invincible. A sharp stab seems to go through his mind when a vicious shove cracks his shield, a line forming straight down the center.

_ Shit,  _ he thinks, his heart pounding. Sweat drips down his cheek. The presence recedes, but he can still feel it within the confines of his mind, still lurking around the edges.

Something touches his knee. The kid’s hand, and suddenly Din can feel  _ his  _ presence, too, lurking as well though he does not touch Din’s shields.  _ Kotyc,  _ it whispers to him.  _ Strong. Kotyc. Strong. _

He swallows and sets his jaw and  _ forces  _ his shields to glue back together, the mental strain overwhelming, but he’s become practiced at keeping the kid out of his mind when he wants. The crack is there, but it becomes thin as he pours more beskar over it.  _ Hold. Strong as beskar. Hold. _

Then, a presence slams hard against his defenses, a hammer against steel, and Din gasps. The crack widens. Pain tears through his head, and he groans.

It’s so much easier to give in. Maz isn’t going to be merciful with him. His shields are hammered again. The kid’s claws dig into his leg. It’s all overwhelming, sweat clinging to his skin.  _ Again. Again. His shields are splintering.  _ Breaking apart, chipping away--

It stops. There is no next hit, and as battered as they are, his shields still stand. Done, Din leans back and lets them fall, gasping for breath. The kid climbs into his lap, looking at him with worry,  _ “Buir?” _

“Fine,” Din breathes. “I’m fine.”

“That was good,” Maz says, and though she is as composed as always, sounds slightly out of breath. “Your discipline is impressive, Din Djarin. For one who cannot command the Force, you are very impressive indeed. Take a seat.”

Din is more than happy to. He pulls himself to his feet and walks to the table nearby, slumping into a seat. Kuiil’s eyes follow him, his expression worried, before he finally turns towards Maz.

Maz looks at the child. Her expression softens. “What is it, little one?” she asks. “You feel quite troubled.”

Din frowns, watching.

Kuiil looks towards Din again, then at Maz. “I had a dream,” he says softly. “A… bad dream. Really bad.”

“Sometimes visions can come from the Force through dreams,” she says. “Tell me what happened.”

Kuiil hesitates. Then he shifts. “A… jedi,” he says. “I think. He had a…” He pauses again, then looks over at Din.  _ “Jetii’kad.” _

“A lightsaber,” Din translates.

Kuiil nods. “He had a… lightsaber. Green. He wore all black. No face. He…” He wrings his hands together, staring at the floor. Then he looks up at Din. “Fought you. Killed you. Then came for me.”

Din stares at him, every muscle tensing. He looks to Maz as he swallows.

“I see,” Maz says. Her voice is contemplative, and she reaches up to adjust her glasses. “... Hm. A Force vision, I’m sure.”

Din clears his throat. “What is a Force… vision?”

“Exactly as it sounds. A vision given by the Force. By my knowledge, they tend to occur in dreams.” Maz keeps her gaze focused on Kuiil. “Force visions may be of the past or future. But the future is never absolute. What you saw, Kuiil, may be simply a frightening dream or a future not come to pass--there is no knowing.”

Kuiil only looks afraid. “What if it happens?” he whimpers. “What… how do you stop it?”

“Attempting to stop a vision from becoming true may be what makes it true,” Maz says, her expression and voice both sympathetic. “I’m sorry, dear, but it is a matter that the two of you must deal with yourselves. I can only suggest that you remain cautious.”

Din watches Kuiil, his jaw set and fingers digging into his arms.

He hates the blaster droid exercise, but Maz started ignoring him about it years ago. Now, he sits in silence and just watches.

The kid has become an expert at it, even with the modified beskar helmet covering his eyes. It forces his ears to be folded down and covered, but it blacks out his vision for the exercise. High above, the blaster droid hovers, moving this way and that, spinning in the middle to change barrels. It shoots, fast or slow and high or low, and the kid dodges.

He uses the Force to sense the bolts before they even come. He uses it to be fast, to slide out of the way or leap to safety. Din can’t help but be mesmerized, leaning forward to watch as he sits beside Maz.

But his own thoughts begin to pull him back and he looks at Maz, sitting up straight again. “About this vision,” he says.

She doesn’t respond, her eyes following Kuiil.

“Do you know the jedi? A green lightsaber?”

“Perhaps,” Maz says. “But it was not my vision. I cannot be sure.”

“Who?” Din asks.

“The only living jedi I know of with a green lightsaber,” she says, “would be Luke Skywalker.”

Din takes in a breath.

“Yes, the one I’ve warned you about.” Maz looks at him now. “He seeks to take on students. He has begun a training academy for the next generation of jedi.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I wouldn’t be so dismissive,” Maz says firmly. “Your boy is incredibly gifted in the Force, and I have been able to teach him. But I am no jedi master. My life does not revolve around the Force the way a jedi’s does.”

“I’m not giving him to Skywalker,” Din snaps. “He’s mine. He is a Mandalorian, not a jedi.”

“I’m not telling you to give him to Skywalker. I’m well aware that you’ll do as you please.” She gives him a look. “But you should at least give it a thought. Skywalker is powerful and seeks to create a reformed Jedi Order. And though you’ve claimed the boy as your son, the jedi will always be his kind, even if you are his father.”

Din scowls. “I’m not going to give him up. It’s not going to happen. The Empire wants him, the jedi want him--I don’t give a damn. They don’t  _ get  _ to have him.”

Maz leans back. “It’s your decision, Din. You’re stubborn. But he will not flourish anywhere like he would flourish under a master’s teaching. It may not be your decision in the end.”

Din stiffens. “What does that mean?”

“Kuiil’s Force signature is strong. Skywalker may have received his own visions of the child, just as he has received visions of Skywalker. I can’t say for certain. But his vision may indicate that Skywalker  _ will  _ know about him, regardless of what you choose yourself.”

He turns away, watching the kid. Kuiil is down in a crouch, staring at the droid, then he springs into the air and out of the way of a plasma bolt. He then pauses, looking back at Din, eyes hidden by the helmet.

_ “Buir?”  _ he says, standing up.

Din bites his cheek. “Pay atten—“

The droid fires again and Kuiil whips around, body tensing, and Din feels his heart stop. The kid manages to throw up his arms and the bolt hits the beskar, deflecting to hit the ceiling, and he’s promptly thrown back by the force.

Din is on his feet and he pulls his blaster from its holster, the droid in its sights before he shoots it from the air. The droid sparks and clatters to the ground, smoking, as Din rushes to the kid and lifts the helmet.

“Did it hit you?” he demands.

Teary eyes stare up at him and Kuiil chokes back a sob, but he shakes his head, holding up his arms to show the vambraces. One has a light scorch mark and there is no burned hole on his clothes. Din’s shoulders relax and he pulls the kid up against his chest, feeling him shake.

“We’re done,” he says, to no one in particular. The kid sobs into his cowl. “We’re done.”

He looks over his shoulder. Maz lets out a sigh and nods in agreement.

It takes an hour for Kuiil to calm down, and another for him to stop clinging so tight to Din. He’s seated on the cot on the  _ Razor Crest _ , wrapped tight in a blanket as he watches Din clean up their dinner. When the plates have been wiped down and stored away, Din turns to look at the kid.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Kuiil nods, but new tears form in his eyes as he looks down.

Din watches him, then walks over. He sits on the cot beside him, both silent; the hatch is open and a cool breeze enters the ship, the buzzing sound of insects providing background noise. He slides off his helmet, setting it on the ground, then places a hand on the kid’s back.

“You’re not okay,” he says.

The kid shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Kuiil.” Din frowns and turns more towards him.  _ “Ad’ika.  _ Look at me. Please.”

Kuiil sniffs before he looks up, eyes watery with tears. Din reaches down and gently wipes away one as it escapes, and draws the kid up into his lap. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s scary to get hit, and it hurts. But you deflected it, and you’re fine. Everything is okay.”

The kid whimpers and shakes his head.

Din frowns and smooths a hand over an ear. “It’s not about the droid?”

He shakes his head again.

“I can only fix it if you tell me,  _ cyar’ika.” _

Kuiil swallows, then reaches up to fiddle with the string of his mythosaur amulet. “I don’t want to be a  _ jetii _ ,” he whispers.

Din pauses, then runs a thumb over his cheek. “You’re not a  _ jetii _ .”

“Maz said--” Kuiil stops, then looks up at Din. “My dream. The vision, the…” He pauses and looks up at Din. “Mando’a?”

_ “Haa’it,”  _ Din says. “Vision.”

The kid nods. “It… it could happen. The  _ jetii.  _ Hurting you, and…”

“I’m not going to let any  _ di’kutla jetii  _ take you. Moff Gideon tried and failed, so will this  _ jetii.  _ You are a Mandalorian. One of us.”

He can still feel the kid’s worry. It’s pervasive, leaving room for nothing other than insecurity. He’s afraid. “You heard us talking,” Din says.

The kid nods, sniffling.

Din feels guilt begin in his stomach. He was distracted by them, then. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice soft, and Kuiil looks up at him. “I don’t care what a vision says. I don’t care if it’s the Empire or a  _ jetii  _ who wants you. You’re my son. We’re  _ aliit.  _ I made a promise when I took you as mine and gave you my family name. I’m going to keep it.”

Kuiil sniffles. He stares down at his vambraces. Din runs a finger over his ear, then leans down and presses their foreheads together. The kid squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a whimper, though he presses back against Din.

“I’m not like you,” he whispers. “At all.”

“You don’t have to be.” Din holds him tight.  _ “Aliit ori'shya tal'din.  _ You know that in Basic?”

“... F-Family is more than blood.”

“Yes,” Din says. “Look. We’re going to finish this training, and then we’ll go home and stay there a while. Just be with the Covert. We’ll get something on the way home, too, okay? See if there’s a good marketplace to stop at and you can get something.”

“Okay,” the kid whispers.

“Good.” Din stands, setting the kid on his hip. “You can have some  _ uj’alayi  _ and then bed. We start over tomorrow.”

Kuiil nods, and Din reaches for the packaged cake.

The end of their trip draws near without any further incidents. After their final lesson draws to a close, they walk with Maz to the front courtyard and face each other.

“Thank you,” Din says. Kuiil only yawns and waves a clawed hand before burying his face in the crease of Din’s arm.

Maz smiles, crossing her arms. “Travel safe,” she says. “Keep exercising his ability to control. Practice your own shields. And  _ visit  _ more often, for star’s sake.”

Din smiles beneath the helmet and nods. “We will.”

As they return to the  _ Crest, _ Din sticky with sweat beneath his clothes and the kid drifting off in his arms, the sun sets at their back.

Din settles into the pilot’s chair with the kid in his lap, one hand rubbing his back as he powers on the  _ Crest  _ and her controls. As the engines roar to life, Kuiil just grumbles and burrows his face against Din’s cuirass.

_ “Yaim.” _

“We were going to stop on the way, right?” Din says. “Let you get something?”

That gets the kid’s attention. He looks up. “Like what?”

“Like whatever you want. Within reason.” Din takes hold of both joysticks, guiding the ship up and off the ground. “A toy or something pretty.”

Kuiil nods, turning in Din’s lap to face the windshield. “Yeah,” he yawns. “Yeah.”

Once they’ve reached the vacuum of space, Din lets his hands come off the joysticks and he taps on his navicomputer. He already has coordinates for a planet.  _ Naviion.  _ It’s an Outer Rim planet, known for its plentiful markets that draw in visitors. Crowds are never good. But they’ll have  _ something  _ the kid will like, and he’ll be content.

Din will admit that he’s been pushing the kid hard. He’s still a child whose need to be with Din manages to overpower his desire to be home and happy. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to come on hunts, but he’ll do it to stay with his  _ buir. _

_ You did that to him.  _ Din tightens his jaw.  _ You made him afraid of being left behind. _

Kuiil is resilient if anything. He endured whatever events came before Din hunted him. He joined the covert, joined a family. They found Maz, with all the mistakes made in that process. He survived the covert’s stand against Moff Gideon. He comes on hunts and will sit on the ship for hours alone.

The directions for Naviion appear on the screen. Two hours, in hyperspace for most of it. It isn’t a terrible detour from home, though it will certainly add time.

“Are you hungry?” Din asks. “There’s leftover  _ uj’alayi.” _

“No,” Kuiil mumbles, leaning back. “Just… tired.”

“Take a nap. We’ll be there soon.”

The kid nods, gets comfortable. Din waits until he seems settled before he taps on the computer to begin a message to Paz.

Two hours isn’t terribly long in the scheme of the galaxy and Din finds himself landing the  _ Crest  _ down between two other vessels in the shipyard. Outside the windshield is a stream of travelers heading away from the ships and into the walled city, bright colors galore. It has the feeling of the covert’s city, but different as well.

Din shakes the kid awake. He’s grumpy, letting out a shiver. Din draws him close to his chest and pulls his cape around, letting it be a blanket to cover him, and draws up the kid’s hood. “There should be something for you here, alright?”

The kid nods and gives a sleepy blink.

Din walks them off the ship, soon blending into the crowd of strangers. Per usual, a Mandalorian receives stares and a certain amount of space from anyone who realizes he’s next to them. They make their way through the city and behind the walls, facing an even larger crowd.

It funnels towards the center of the city, where a massive space has been set aside from the buildings for a marketplace. It reminds him of Nevarro; there isn’t complete rhyme or reason to the layout of market stalls, but there’s plenty of space to walk through. Colored banners fly overhead, not promoting allegiance but advertising exactly what the stall is selling. They’re first hit with the overwhelming smell of food, of cooking meats and spices. Din’s mouth waters and Kuiil squirms in his arms.

“Toys,” he mutters beneath his breath. “Kids toy…”

A group of kids goes running past, small and barefoot with ragged clothes, but they giggle as they run. Din watches, then steps forward to follow, head turning up to scan the banners. Kids wouldn’t usually have an interest in a market except for toys.

The group disappears from sight but Din just looks for a banner indicating playthings. Someone bumps into him, rough, and he grumbles; another person goes walking by quickly only for their shoulders to hit. The beskar scrapes.

“Watch it!” the man hisses, turning sharp to face Din. Then he looks him up and down and pales, muttering an apology before disappearing into the crowd.

_ “Utreekov,”  _ Kuiil says.

Din looks down. “Who taught you that?” he says.

_ “Ba’vodu.” _

Din rolls his eyes.

The kid has keener eyes than him, it seems, because it’s him who finds the grouping of stalls that sell children’s toys. It’s three, clustered together; one sells carved figures, one is knitted plush toys, and another has clothing. Din puts a hand on Kuiil’s back as he steps up to the plush toys.

“See any?” he asks.

The kid leans out of Din’s arms to look. The stallkeeper stares at him, eyes big and confused upon the kid’s appearance, but he seems smart enough to not say anything in front of a Mandalorian.

Kuiil points. It’s a stuffed red akk dog, with beady little knitted eyes. Din frowns. “Really?”

There’s others. Cuter ones. But Kuiil nods his head and reaches out. The dog floats forward and straight into his arms, and the kid makes a delighted squeak.

Din sighs and pulls out his pouch of credits. The stallkeeper continues to stare at the kid in shock. “How much?” he asks, and the man starts before babbling out a price.

Kuiil becomes the new owner of an ugly knitted akk dog and he’s snuggling it like it’s his new favorite thing in the world.

It wasn’t expensive, actually rather cheap for the make, but he figures it’s because of the sight of a Mandalorian and a telekinetic child. So Din asks, “Anything else?”

Kuiil looks up at him, then around. The clothing isn’t interesting, so he turns his attention to the carvings beside them. Din walks over and they stand beside two others admiring the trinkets; all carved from beautiful wood and painted by hand. The figures resemble warriors. Some are Rebel soldiers, others are stormtroopers. One is a Mandalorian. Din rolls his eyes at the pitiful attempt at Mandalorian armor.

The kid stares at the figures and Din looks to the side. There’s a box of necklaces, each with a thin circle of wood, a symbol painted on it. He picks up one and looks at the crest of the New Republic; he puts it down. But beneath is something else, something he doesn’t recognize. He picks it up and looks at the stallkeeper; a frail old man. “What is this?” he asks.

The symbol has wings on each side, arching in a circle. In the center is a sword or a knife, with something like a star as its crossguard.

For a moment, the man looks almost nervous. “Well, that’s,” he begins.

Kuiil looks over.  _ “Buir!”  _ he says, leaning over to see it. “That’s from dreams. My dreams. I saw that.”

Din looks at Kuiil, then the man. “What is it?”

“That’s… the symbol of the jedi,” he says. “The old jedi order.”

Din studies him. “The jedi,” he says. He looks at the symbol again.

The kid reaches out. His clawed hand rests against the wood, overtop the crest, then suddenly he pulls back as if stung. His expression twists into fear and he presses against Din’s cuirass, turning away as he squeezes the dog. “Have to go,” he whimpers.  _ “Buir. Buir.  _ Have to go.”

“What?” Din says. He puts the necklace down. “What’s wrong?”

“Have to go! Now, now, now.”

Din frowns, then adjusts the kid. “Alright, alright, we’ll go.” He draws the cape around Kuiil again and steps back into the crowd. He can feel the kid’s panicked breathing increase, his claws digging into Din where they can.

“What is it?” he asks. But Kuiil doesn’t respond as he stares straight ahead. He looks  _ terrified.  _

So Din picks up the pace and slips through the crowd as best he can, leaving the market the way they came.

Within a few minutes, they break free of the crowd and suddenly find themselves standing in open air. There is no stream of people coming through the gate; without the travelers at their back, it would be dead silent. Din stares at the sudden emptiness before them, slowing, before Kuiil digs into him again and he takes off at a jog.

_ “Buir,”  _ the kid whimpers. It’s not a request, only a mantra.  _ “Buir. Buir. Buir…” _

“I have you,” Din says. “It’s alright. We’re leaving. I have y—“

He turns at the gate and comes to a stop.

Between them and the  _ Razor Crest _ stands a man in a black cloak. The man turns to look at them, and the kid is trembling in his arms.

Din’s mouth goes dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Ba'vodu -- uncle  
> Su'cuy -- hi!  
> Su cuy'gar -- hello (lit. you're still alive)  
> Geroya -- play  
> Buir'e -- mothers/father/parents  
> Copaanir -- want  
> Haryc -- tired  
> Kai'tome -- food  
> Haashun -- parchment bread, a Mando ration-pack staple. kuiil isn't a fan.  
> Uj'ayl - sweet, thick syrup for cooking  
> Uj'alayi - dense, very sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spice  
> Gedet'ye -- please  
> Vor'e -- thank you!  
> Oya -- "let's hunt", a cheer or triumphant chant, Mando solidarity  
> Kotyc -- strong  
> Jetii'kad -- lightsaber  
> Cyar'ika -- sweetheart, darling  
> Haa'it -- vision  
> Di'kutla -- stupid, worthless, useless  
> Aliit -- clan/family  
> Aliit ori'shya tal'din -- family is more than blood  
> Utreekov -- fool, idiot, (lit. emptyhead)
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)


	3. The Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can sense the suffering he’s already endured. How much of it was at your hands?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this.
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

Luke Skywalker doesn’t move. For a stretched silence, they only stare at each other, and a harsh wind blows past.

He can hear the kid crying at his chest, whimpering and hiccuping.  _ “Buir,”  _ he continues to repeat.  _ “Buir…” _

“Peace, Mandalorian.” It’s Skywalker who breaks the tension. “I’m not here to cause violence.”

“Good,” Din calls back. “Then I’m getting on my ship without issue.”

“Not exactly.” Stars, he sounds young. He must be younger than Din at least. Old enough to be a man and not enough to quite command respect. “You’re carrying something that I’ve been looking for.”

“I’m not carrying a  _ thing.” _

He can see Skywalker smile. “No, of course not. That was the wrong choice of words. Some _ one  _ I’ve been looking for. It may seem silly, but I’m following the path of a vision given to me by the Force. I’m presuming you know what the Force is.”

Din stares at him. “I do,” he says.

“I presume you know about the abilities of that child in your arms.”

“You mean my son.”

Skywalker pauses at that. “Your son.” Then, he seems to have recovered. “I don’t know where you stole him from, but it seems you got there before I cou—“

“I didn’t  _ steal  _ him,” Din snaps. “I found him. He is a Foundling.”

“He is a  _ youngling.” _

“He’s a damn Mandalorian is what he is. He’s been adopted into my clan. I don’t care how long you’ve searched for him or what you want with him. He isn’t leaving me.”

“Do you understand how powerful he is in the Force?” Skywalker begins to walk closer now. Din reaches for his blaster. “His signature is like a beacon in your arms. He’s so bright that he is  _ bathed  _ in the Force. I only knew one other like him and he too can become an extraordinary jedi.”

Kuiil whimpers, clinging tight. Din wraps both arms around him protectively. “He is no jedi,” he says. “He is  _ Mando.  _ Not  _ jetii.” _

Skywalker stares at him, his gaze more critical. “He  _ must  _ be trained,” he says, stopping just a few feet away. Now, Din can see how young he really is--younger than him by at least several years. “Trained in the ways of the light. Without it, he will fall to the dark side and destroy the balance. There is nothing else to it.”

“He is being trained,” Din says. “Maz Kanata trains him in the Force. He has been learning control for years. We haven’t needed you.”

“Maz Kanata is gifted in the Force in her own ways, but she is not a jedi.” Skywalker looks towards the boy. “I know both sides, Mandalorian. I know the love of family as well as the duties of a jedi. That is why my Jedi Order will be better than the last. But this is one case where family cannot outweigh duty, when the Force hangs in the balance. You cannot raise him right.”

Din sets his jaw. “There was someone else who wanted him as badly as you do,” he says. “Moff Gideon made a real attempt to take him. He sent hunter after hunter to take the child and I killed them all. He’s still plotting to steal him.”

Skywalker stiffens.

“He tries and fails again and again. If you take the kid, he’ll come after you. He’ll rip your new Order apart and murder your  _ future generation  _ of jedi. He’ll burn down everything if it means getting his hands on him.” Din steps closer. He’s taller, enough that Skywalker has to look up at him. “If you try to take him from me, my covert will gladly do the same.”

Skywalker stares back into his visor. His expression is solid, unflinching, and his eyes drift down to Kuiil. The kid stares at him through teary eyes, clearly exhausted as he pushes further against Din.

Then, Skywalker raises a hand. He waves it almost dismissively. “You will give me the child,” he says.

Din feels  _ persuasion  _ push at his mind. He tightens his jaw and feels the compulsion to do as Skywalker says, to open his arms and hand over the kid. But he throws up a shield instead. The  _ persuasion  _ melts away, and he stands firm. “No,” he says.

Skywalker’s expression falls. He looks confused. “You  _ will  _ give me the child,” he says, and it’s firmer this time.

But Din expects it now and pushes back harder against the command. He doesn’t know exactly what it is but it makes his skin crawl to have his will almost taken over. “No,” he snaps. “Quit it with the tricks. We’re leaving.”

He steps around Skywalker. For a moment, they walk without issue, and the jedi is silent. Then there’s a sound like almost a closing door, a short  _ chhhh  _ sound, and Din’s blood freezes. A hand slips down to his blaster as he turns--and sees a green lightsaber, its light warm against Skywalker’s cloak.

Kuiil makes a distressed whimper, trembling.

Din sets his jaw.  _ “Me’sen,”  _ he growls, training his blaster on Skywalker.  _ “Jii. Haaranovor.” _

“No,” the kid whispers. “No,  _ buir, buir,  _ the dream--”

“Kuiil.  _ Jii.” _

Din loosens his arm. The kid slips through and lands on the ground, then turns and stares up at Din.

“Go,” he snaps. “Now.”

The kid turns and runs for the  _ Crest. _

Skywalker watches him. When he takes a step forward, Din fires a bolt at the ground just in front of his feet. “Stay where you are,” he says, beginning to step backwards. “You said you didn’t come to start violence. Let’s keep it that way.”

“You fired the first shot,” Skywalker says.

“You took out the lightsaber,” Din says.

“Maybe so. What dream is he talking about?”

“He dreamed about you. About this.”

“He had a vision. What happened?”

Din looks at him. “You killed me,” he says. “You took him.”

“One of those things can be stopped,” Skywalker says. “I have no desire at all to kill you, Mando. If you surrender the child, we can both walk away with no injury sustained.”

“Losing my child is more than an injury,” Din says. “I’ll take a hero’s death while protecting my son. If you do kill me and take him, you’ll have to face both the Empire and my covert.”

“How should I face them if no one knows I have him?” Skywalker says.

“My people will know. I sent them a message before we even landed here. They know to be concerned if we haven’t returned in two days. They know about the vision.” Din flicks off the safety on his blaster. “If you kill me, they’ll know it was you. If you don’t kill me, they’ll definitely know it was you.”

“You really don’t understand,” Skywalker says. “Or you don’t want to admit the truth. A Mandalorian clan may be a good home to others, but not to a youngling. There are things you will not be able to protect him against. If he falls to the dark side, there will be nothing you can do to bring him back. This is a matter for the jedi.”

“Disagreed.”

Din begins to back up again. Skywalker watches. He turns to look over his shoulder--the kid is out of sight, probably on the ship already.  _ Good.  _

Then, there’s the whistle of a lightsaber going through the air, and Din whips around just in time to see the wave of green slicing towards him. He ducks beneath it and draws his blaster, firing a shot, but Skywalker deflects it and it shoots off into the sky. Din backs up several feet, putting space between them.

He feels a presence in his mind.  _ Worry, fear, concern.  _ The kid is afraid. Din tries to send back reassurance, but his stomach has twisted into knots as Skywalker twirls the saber.

He has every reason to believe that if he tries to fight, he will die here.

Skywalker approaches, and Din backs up more to keep the space wide between them. As long as he’s out of reach, he has a good chance. They’re getting closer to the open ramp of the  _ Crest.  _ Shit, he thinks, and he reaches for his vambrace to close it.

As soon as he’s looking down, Skywalker lunges, and Din can’t complete the command before he’s diving and rolling out of the way. Sucking in a breath, he rolls to his knees and then up again. He raises his blaster and shoots. Skywalker deflects. His hand shoots out and Din is shoved back with enough force that he’s sent sprawling across the ground.

Out of the way.

Skywalker looks at him, then turns and walks towards the  _ Crest.  _ Din grits his teeth and shoves his arm out, his grappling hook shooting from his vambrace. It wraps around Skywalker’s ankle. As the jedi looks down, Din rips it back, dragging Skywalker to the ground with a surprised hiss.

Din jumps to his feet and pulls his blaster again, firing several rounds, but Skywalker manages to deflect some and roll out of the way of others. He leans down and slices through the cable, then twists onto a knee and then his feet. Din fires several more shots, the jedi stepping back as he deflects each one.

The lightsaber twirls to block the bolts. They deflect into the air. Then, one comes straight back and glances off the beskar. Din stumbles back but raises his blaster again, drawing his vibroblade into his other hand.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Skywalker says, sounding out of breath. His voice is almost, almost pleading. “Stand down. I can give your boy the life he needs.”

“I’m already doing that,” Din snarls. “You’ll have to kill me to take him. Or I’ll spend every last breath I have trying to get him back from you.”

Skywalker stares at him, then raises his saber again. “Then so be it,” he says.

Din scowls. He pulls the trigger again. Each bolt is deflected or dodged. Skywalker approaches and he backs up again; Skywalker throws a hand out and Din’s boots scrape against the ground as he’s dragged forward.  _ Shit,  _ he thinks, when the lightsaber slashes towards him in another green arc. He ducks in and throws an arm out, his forearm slamming against Skywalker’s.

Skywalker hisses at the impact. Fingers grip his forearm. Din aims his blaster at the jedi’s sternum but the barrel is grabbed and wrenched to the side. His finger twists and he groans before ripping his hand back, pulling his finger free from the trigger guard, and the blaster cracks against the ground. Skywalker slams a fist into Din’s abdomen but only hits beskar, and he pulls it back quickly in pain.

Din slams his head forward, his helmet bashing against Skywalker’s face. The jedi groans, stepping back as his eyes fill with tears, and Din tightens his grip on Skywalker’s arm, twisting it in. One hand grips higher on his arm and he turns, pulling down, vaulting Skywalker over his shoulder. Skywalker lands on his back with a groan, teeth gritted, and both are breathing ragged.

Din steps forward and slams his foot down on Skywalker’s arm, pinning it. He reaches down and grabs the lightsaber, finding the button that deactivates it, and steps back. “Yield,” he hisses, tossing it far behind him. “Let us go.”

Skywalker begins to get up. The knuckles on one hand are swelling, his nose is bruised, and more bruises are beginning under his eyes. He stares at Din, then gets to his feet, stumbling a bit. “Your fighting ability will never be enough,” he says. “It’s not the protection he needs. I can sense the suffering he’s already endured. How much of it was at your hands?”

Din stares at him. He walks towards his blaster. “You don’t know anything.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You don’t understand  _ anything  _ we’ve gone through and you’ve already decided that I can’t care for him. When I’ve been his father for  _ years.” _

“I don’t decide that you can’t care for him. It’s plain to see. If you won’t surrender a child of his power to the jedi, then you obviously don’t know what’s best for him.”

Din scowls and grabs his blaster, aiming it at Skywalker. “Have you even considered his feelings? If he’ll want to leave his home and his family for  _ you?” _

“He will outlive his family!” Skywalker yells now, frustration dripping from his voice. “Do you understand how long the boy will live? Master Yoda died at  _ 900 years old.  _ You are  _ human,  _ Mando. He will watch you die. Everyone he considers  _ family  _ will die and he will have to live on through it. You’ve done nothing to teach him how to deal with attachment properly.”

“Teach him attachment?” Din breathes. “What, should he be taught as a  _ jedi  _ about attachment? That they’re evil and distracting? You’d have him know no family at all?”

“Of course not! He should be taught to  _ handle  _ attachments. How to deal with his emotions properly, not ignore it all together. Your people value family too much for a child doomed to outlive that family. You are confining him to a life of constant pain and death. One day you will be nothing but a memory to him.”

“Then I’ll make the most of our time.”

Skywalker scowls, then throws a hand out. Din turns to look and sees the lightsaber lift off the ground, shooting back towards its owner. “No!” Din hisses, blood running cold as he realizes his mistake. It erupts to life and Skywalker lunges.

Din watches the green arc come towards him and stumbles backwards. Tripping over his feet, he grits his teeth and throws his arm up. The lightsaber slashes down against his vambrace, shrieking as it meets the beskar. He smells burning metal as steam rises off the beskar and Din brings his knee up, slamming his heel into Skywalker’s gut. The jedi winces, then swings again. Din throws his other forearm up and blocks the saber again, and scowling, Skywalker steps back and twirls the blade.

“How are you doing that?” he demands.

“It’s beskar,” Din hisses. “Mandalorians fought the jedi for years. We know your tricks.”

Skywalker stares at him, then throws his hand out. Din is thrown backwards, his back hitting the side of the  _ Crest.  _ Caught by surprise, Din feels his body shake with the force, and an overwhelming throb begins in his head. Warmth begins to trickle down through his hair, onto his neck. As he collapses to the ground, landing on his hands and knees with another jolt rocking his body, he reaches back. The orange fingers of his glove come away, stained with blood. He grits his teeth and gets back to his feet, stumbling to the side.

“Stand. Down,” Skywalker says. “Your strength is admirable but there is no reason for you to die today.”

“There’s no reason for you to take my kid today,” Din seethes. His fingers wrap around his vibroblade. A frightened presence pushes at his mind but he blocks the kid out; a simple shield takes so much more energy than he anticipates. He raises the blade.  _ “Darjetii.” _

He takes a step forward. Skywalker sighs, then raises his saber in another pass. Din steps back and shoots up his arm, a tiny flame blowing into a cloud of fire at Skywalker’s face. The jedi’s eyes widen and he turns away, disappearing behind the cloud.

Din’s heart is pounding, blood roaring in his ears. Skywalker doesn’t appear anywhere else. He keeps the fire blowing.

_ “Buir!” _

That draws pause. Din turns to see the kid standing on the ramp, staring at him. He looks terrified, big tears in his ears that drip down his face. Din’s stomach turns. “Go back inside!” he yells. “It’s oka--”

The flamethrower sputters out, wisps of fire barely escaping. Din turns to look down at it, then hears the kid scream.

_ “NO!” _

He sees a flash of green light before he’s thrown backwards again. His back hits the  _ Crest,  _ his head following, and then he collapses to the ground. His vision flickers in and out, purplish darkness creeping in at the edge of his peripherals. He can’t move, only feel the wind against him. He stares through his visor, breathing heavy, as warm liquid drips down his cheek and into his mouth. He tastes his copper blood.

Skywalker is on one side. Both hands are on his lightsaber, still leaning forward in a lunge, before he slowly straightens and turns it off. 

On the ramp, Kuiil stands with his arm outstretched towards Din, eyes big as he lowers it.  _ “B-Buir,”  _ he whimpers. Din can barely hear him, like he’s in a tunnel.  _ “Buir.  _ No. No…”

“It’s alright,” Skywalker says. “You didn’t mean to.”

He steps towards the kid. Kuiil turns and stares up at him.  _ Don’t fucking touch him,  _ Din thinks, but his vision is rapidly disappearing.

Skywalker reaches for the kid.

Din slips into darkness.

“It’s not your fault,” the jedi says. “You didn’t kill him.”

Kuiil ignores him, staring at his father. The guilt threatens to flood him. The jedi’s hand settles on his shoulder but he doesn’t respond, breathing heavily. He can barely see through his tears. A sob threatens to rip its way out of his throat.  _ “Buir,”  _ he whimpers.

Then he pulls out of the jedi’s grip and jumps off the ramp. Ignoring the jedi’s call, he runs to  _ buir’s  _ side and places a hand on his pauldron. His claws slip against the Mudhorn signet and tremble.  _ “Ni ceta,”  _ he cries.  _ “Ni ceta!” _

_ Buir  _ isn’t awake, he can feel as much. With tears in his eyes, he moves and places his hands against  _ buir’s  _ helmet, sensing the damage beneath. When he looks down, he sees blood dripping into a puddle beneath  _ buir’s  _ head. The sight draws another sob out of him, so he doesn’t look, but he can’t take off the helmet. Not with the  _ jetii  _ there. He can’t dishonor his father, he knows as much, even if it means saving his life.

“Little one.” The  _ jetii  _ has walked over and now kneels on the ground, sitting back on his heels, close and yet not too close. “He will be alright.”

“He’s bleeding,” Kuiil wails, wiping uselessly at his tears.

“Head wounds can bleed so much, but reach out and feel his life essence. He is wounded but he is okay. He will wake up soon and be alright.”

Kuiil looks back at the  _ jetii. Buir  _ taught him to sense lies and this doesn’t seem like a lie. So he sits down beside his father and prepares to wait.

Silence stretches. The jedi shifts. “What is your name?”

Kuiil stares at him. Then he swallows. “Kuiil Djarin,” he says.

“Kuiil Djarin. My name is Luke Skywalker.” He sounds so  _ kind  _ now, as if he weren’t just fighting his father. He’s starting to look funny now, though, with bruises under his eyes like that. “I didn’t want to hurt your father. I never intended to. But he was trying to--”

“You want to take me,” Kuiil whispers. “To be a jedi.”

“I can’t force you,” Luke says. “Whether I wanted to or not, I can’t control you. If you truly do not want to train under me as a jedi, then there is nothing I can do about that.”

Kuiil stares at him, then at  _ buir.  _ “Then, why…”

“Your father’s will is not your own. Could you feel his fear?” Luke looks at him. “He says no out of that fear. I could feel it. He is afraid of losing you. He is afraid of not being enough, and of you no longer needing him. It is the fear of a father.”

Kuiil sniffles.

“Come with me, Kuiil.” Luke’s voice is soft, gentle, and when Kuiil retreats at the words, he doesn’t reach for him. “I want to show you some things. There are some jedi I would like you to meet, to speak with. Let me show you the jedi temple and how beautiful it all is. If you then want to remain with your family, I will return you home. I give you my word.”

Kuiil stares at Luke. Then at his father, lying still, almost like the dead except for the slightest breathing and the pulsing of life within his core.

“I have to heal him,” he says softly. He turns and looks at Luke. “You can’t look.”

“Heal him?”

“With the Force,” Kuiil says. “I have to—to take the helmet off. You can’t look. You’re  _ aruetii.” _

_ “Aruetii,”  _ Luke says. “What does that mean?”

“It’s—“ Kuiil pauses. He stares down at the ground. “I don’t… know. In Basic. It’s… it’s… not Mando.”

“It means I’m not Mandalorian,” Luke says. “I’m not part of your tribe.”

Kuiil nods vigorously. “Right. But…  _ aliit.  _ Clan. Family? I can look, but… no one else.”

“I see,” Luke says, even if he doesn’t seem to. He then stands and turns away, walking a few feet off.

Kuiil takes a deep breath, then turns back to  _ buir  _ and begins to grip the helmet. He steps back, pulling it off, and there’s a  _ hiss _ as a small bit of steam rises from damaged tech. He’s heard that sound a million times but somehow it strikes fear into him now. He keeps pulling, then stumbles back with the helmet in his lap. He looks down and sees the inside drenched with blood over all the packed tech. Then, he looks up.

His  _ buir’s  _ face is covered in dark red blood, and Kuiil swallows before setting the helmet aside and stepping up. There’s  _ so much of it.  _ With shaking hands, he touches the top of  _ buir’s  _ head where there seems to be more sweat than blood. His claws come away with no red. So he presses gently and closes his eyes.

He wills the Force into his  _ buir. Heal,  _ he thinks,  _ heal, fix, repair.  _ Like when he lifts on object, it is simply instinct. He feels exhaustion begin to grip him; the injury is serious. He presses harder. Beneath him, his  _ buir’s  _ consciousness is quiet, but its strength begins to grow.

Stronger and stronger, until the wound has healed and Kuiil can step back, breathing heavy. He leans down and grabs the helmet, pulling it back. He pushes it back on. He doesn’t like leaving the blood there. He imagines how sticky it is and how it will dry. But he has nothing to wipe it with.

“Okay,” he says softly.

Luke turns. He walks back over and kneels down in front of Kuiil. “I know you may be scared,” he says. “You thought I would kill your father and steal you from him. But that’s not what I’m here for. I never intended for him to be hurt. But I’d like to show you some things and let you decide, not him.”

Kuiil stares up at Luke. When the jedi holds out a hand, he reaches out to touch his palm.

_ It’s okay,  _ a voice in his head rumbles.  _ It’s okay, little one. He will not hurt you. _

It’s the voice of an old man. He sounds kind, and certainly isn’t Luke.

_ Safe, you will be,  _ another whispers.

A wave of ease comes over him. Luke is looking at him with hope, with kindness, nothing like the monster  _ darjetii _ from his vision he thought he was. 

“Can’t leave him here,” he says softly, turning to look back at  _ buir. _

“Of course not,” Luke says in agreement. “We can put him in the ship and close the door so he’ll be safe, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Good. You can show me where to put him, and then we can go. Alright?”

Kuiil nods.

Luke uses the Force to lift  _ buir,  _ and he’s slow and gentle in doing so. Kuiil jumps into the ship and shows him the cot, where Luke lays him, careful all the way. Kuiil stops and stares at his father, sudden tears beginning fresh in his eyes.

“I hurt him,” he whispers.

Luke looks at him, then dips to a knee in front of him. “You were trying to save him,” he says. “Sometimes, things don’t go the way you plan. But he  _ is  _ going to live, without a doubt, thanks to you. You did wonderful healing. I can feel that he’s stronger.”

Kuiil sniffs, looking down.

“Are you ready to come with me?” Luke asks.

He looks up, then at  _ buir.  _ He takes a deep breath, then nods and holds his arms up. Luke smiles and lifts him onto his hip, letting him squirm until he’s comfortable. Then, they turn and walk out of the ship together.

“Wait,” Kuiil says. Luke pauses. Kuiil trains his gaze on the akk dog toy, lying forgotten on the ground. He holds a hand out and levitates it towards him, bringing it into his arms. Luke smiles, and then continues on.

The door begins to close. They walk across the shipyard towards another ship. Kuiil twists to look past Luke, to watch the  _ Razor Crest  _ become smaller and smaller.

“I knew another just like you,” Luke says. “Older, but he was the same species as you.”

Kuiil turns and looks up at him. “Really?” he says.  _ “Buir  _ doesn’t know where I’m from.”

Luke nods, smiling. “Really,” he says. “Master Yoda was the greatest jedi I ever…”

When Din wakes, his head is throbbing. It’s almost difficult to open his eyes, feeling glued shut. He reaches his hands up and begins to pull off the helmet—then lets out a hiss as his skin sticks to it. He pulls, harder, and grits his teeth as the helmet comes off and he can open his eyes.

He lets out a breath of relief.

Then, panic floods him as memories come crashing in.

_ Skywalker. Fighting. Distracted by the kid, hitting the ship. The kid. The kid. _

_ Luke fucking Skywalker reaching for his kid. _

_ “KUIIL!” _ he shouts, voice hoarse, as he nearly throws himself off the cot.  _ “Kuiil! Ad’ika? Cyar’ika?” _

He gets no response and instead he has to take a minute as he grows dizzy. He looks around wildly to see the door is shut, everything is quiet. He tries to reach out with his mind, but the kid’s presence is gone and their bond is terribly lopsided. With growing panic, he races to the ladder, stumbling to keep his balance until he grabs a rung. He pulls himself up.

“Kuiil?” he calls again when he steps into the cockpit. Empty. His heart is pounding in his chest, fear growing like a knot in his stomach. He steps up to the chair and looks out the shielding; they’re still on Naviion. He looks at the time.

It’s been two hours. His throat goes dry. They should’ve been home by now.

He drops down the ladder and hits the controls, opening the main hatch. As soon as its open enough, he slips through and lands on his feet, looking around wildly at the shipyard.  _ “Kuiil!”  _ he shouts, but it feels like a wasteland. There are significantly less ships than when they landed; the sun is setting, travelers are filing out of the city.  _ “Kuiil! Kuiil!” _

Nothing. There is nothing at all. With furious tears threatening to form, he spots his blaster on the ground and walks to it, picking it up. He sees a small pool of dried blood on the ground, and the cut cord of his grappling hook. He tightens his jaw.

Then storms back onto the ship, hitting the button for the door.

He goes straight back into the cockpit, almost throwing himself into the chair, then starts flipping switches and buttons to fly. He pulls up the computer and taps rapidly on his messaging system, finding a new one from Paz.

_ Message received. _

_ -Paz Vizla. _

He has to wipe at his tears to see, rage gripping every inch of his body. He types in Mando’a, fast and with typos, but he doesn’t care.

_ Lost the kid. Skywlkaer. Knocked me oub and took him. No way to follow. Hurt. Coming hime. _

_ -Din Djarin _

I lost him, he thinks bitterly, ripping levers back with far more force than he needs to. The  _ Crest  _ rises into the air.  _ You couldn’t protect him. Skywalker won’t give him back. If you can’t find him, he’s lost forever and you’ll be the reason. _

A week ago, everything was normal.

Now, it’s all falling apart.

As the  _ Crest  _ leaves the atmosphere, a message pops up again.

_ What happened? Vision? _

_ -Paz Vizla _

_ Mostly. Woke up and they were gone. _

_ -Din Djarin _

The next response is quick.

_ We’ll find them. Just get home. Glad you’re okay. _

_ -Paz Vizla _

Din takes a long, deep breath. Then he taps again, selecting a different channel. He begins typing again, now in Basic.

_ Vision came true. Still alive but Skywalker took the kid. Need to know where he’s going. _

_ -Din Djarin _

He hits the  _ send  _ button to Maz’s station.

He sets a course for home and sends the ship into hyperspace. He turns on autopilot. He pushes himself up and out of the chair, then stumbles to walk to the ladder and slides down. He’s still dizzy.

He walks to his ‘fresher and steps inside. He almost starts upon seeing his reflection, his face coated with dry blood in a nightmarish way. Then he lets out a groan and begins to strip down for a sonic shower, as the guilt and anger continues to gnaw away inside him.

When he redresses, he’s clean but no less panicked than before. Anxiously, he runs his hands through his hair, pacing the cargo hold back and forth as thoughts run through his head.

Skywalker’s started a training academy. There must be a base of sorts for the training, some concrete location, and he must be taking the kid there. It makes sense. He can’t think of anything else.

His stomach is so twisted into knots that he can’t breathe. He  _ can’t breathe.  _ His heart is pounding and his vision blurs, his balance wavers, and he has to catch himself on the nearest wall to not collapse.  _ He’s gone. He’s gone.  _ He can’t see, he can’t hear anything beyond his breathing, and he’s hot all over.  _ Oh, stars, oh, stars.  _ He falls to his knees. His hands are shaking, uncontrollable.

It feels as though the galaxy is folding in around him. Smaller and smaller, trapping him in a small box, and  _ he can’t breathe.  _ He slams his fist on the wall, weak, he can’t stand up if he tried.

_ “Ad’ika,”  _ he whispers, barely audible. He starts pulling his flight suit open, struggling to draw breath. His mind feels horribly empty and yet crowded all at once. The Force bond he’s grown so used to is gone, dead, mute, and the silence is  _ painful  _ and  _ terrifying. _

He stares at the floor, breathing slow to keep bile from burning through his throat. He digs his fingers into the metal of the floor, trembling, struggling to regain control of himself.

One half of him vows to burn the galaxy to the ground if it means getting his son back.

The other half collapses in mourning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Me'sen -- starship  
> Jii -- now  
> Haaranovor -- hide  
> Darjetii -- sith  
> Ni ceta -- I'm sorry (heartfelt)  
> Aruetii -- outsider/traitor/foreigner
> 
> Come chat about this or anything Mando on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)


	4. The Masters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force feels really, really nice here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

As the ship begins to land, Kuiil stares out at light blue sky. Clouds drift across overhead as trees begin to creep in from the edges, rising higher and higher as the ship lands. They set down on a stone surface, the starship settling against the ground.

Luke reaches around Kuiil, hitting buttons and flipping switches as the ship powers down. Kuiil stands in his lap and sets his hands against the side of the ship, leaning against it to stare out at the planet. There’s a vast sea of stone surrounding a massive building, a few other ships parked as well.

“Where is this?” he whispers.

“Yavin-4,” Luke says. He takes off his helmet and sets it aside, then takes Kuiil into his arms. Kuiil quickly snatches his toy dog. The dome overhead begins to raise and Luke climbs out, his hold on Kuiil firm as he steps down the ladder on the side. Once his boots hit the ground, he adjusts Kuiil into his other arm. One hand comes to support him.

Kuiil stares down at it. Luke’s left hand is soft and warm through his glove, like _buir’s,_ but his left hand isn’t. It’s cold and edged and feels stiff in the way it moves. “Your hand is weird,” Kuiil says, looking down at it.

Luke looks at him, then smiles. He adjusts Kuiil so he can pull off the glove--and his hand isn’t human at all, it’s metal, and makes a small _whirring_ noise as he flexes his fingers. “I lost my hand in a fight,” he says. “This helps me.”

“Whoa,” Kuiil whispers. He leans against Luke’s chest, staring at the hand. “Whoa.”

Luke smiles, then works the glove back on. “This is our temple,” he says, walking forward. Kuiil turns to stare at the massive building. The stone looks as if it’s been there a long time and has green on parts of it. “My students and I live and train here.”

“Pretty,” Kuiil whispers.

“It’s very pretty.”

The Force feels… _nice_ here.

They walk towards the temple. It almost seems abandoned, but from the shadows of the front entrance emerges a blue and white blob. Kuiil watches it approach, rolling forward, until it’s closer and he can see that it’s a droid. He’s never seen one like it before. It stops in front of Luke and lets out a series of beeps, seeming to rock between its two arms.

Kuiil’s claws dig into Luke’s arm, pressing back against him.

“Hello, Artoo,” Luke says. “Kuiil, this is--hey, are you okay?”

“Droid,” Kuiil whispers, pressing back against Luke. “... _Buir_ doesn’t like droids.”

“R2-D2 is nice,” Luke says. “He won’t hurt you.”

Artoo lets out a series of beeps as if in confirmation. Then he turns and begins rolling back towards the temple. Luke follows. Kuiil relaxes a bit as they cross the threshold, stepping out of sunshine and into shadow.

The Force feels really, really nice here.

It’s as if it thrives here. Kuiil doesn’t know how to explain it. Like how the Force wraps around Luke, it blankets the temple and grows stronger with every step inside. It’s relaxing, soothing. He presses back into the crook of Luke’s arm, feeling _safe._

Luke’s students are sparse, not quite as many as Kuiil thought there would be--but there’s still several, all very different, and they’re all nice. They smile at Kuiil and say hello, and he smiles back--the Force holds them all as well, even if it’s not as tight as Luke. 

After the greetings, the students disappear to other parts of the temple. Kuiil watches, then slumps, feeling a terrible sort of unease come over him.

Luke seems to sense it. He crouches down beside Kuiil, setting two fingers on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” he murmurs.

Kuiil swallows. It’s not home, he wants to say. The Force feels nice but there are no Mandalorians here, no families or foundlings or any of his friends. There’s no _buir_ or Paz or _alor,_ no Ari or Jaylen or Broedy. There’s no fun. It feels cold.

“Kuiil?” Luke says, his voice and touch gentle.

“It’s… it’s not home,” he whispers.

“Of course.” Luke sits down beside him, crossing his legs. Kuiil likes when humans sit--it’s less frightening. “Tell me about home. What’s it like there?”

Kuiil perks up at that. “Home’s… home,” he says. “It’s, it’s--everyone’s there! All the, all the Mandalorians and foundlings and-- _aliit._ Family. It’s warm and fun, and it’s all family. It’s all nice. _Buir_ is there, and _bavodu’e,_ and if we’re home then there’s people to play with all day, and--”

He stops himself. He looks up at Luke, who is only looking at him with a smile, just _listening._ It’s almost strange. He knows he’s rambling, just spitting out words, and _buir_ usually stops him when he does. _Take a breath. Organize your thoughts. Say what you mean._ He always tells Kuiil that; to only say what he means, and in front of strangers, only say what he has to. Rambling gives away too much. He’ll say something wrong.

Luke doesn’t stop him. He seems _interested._ But Kuiil just bites down on his lip, and there’s a stretched pause.

“Your home sounds great,” Luke says, as though sensing he won’t say more. “I had a home like that, once. Not with as many people. But I had my--how would you say ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’?”

 _“Bavodu’e,”_ Kuiil says. Then he pauses. He doesn’t really know if he’s allowed to share Mando’a with _aruetiise._ It never came up.

“Which is that?”

“Both,” he says hesitantly.

“... Mandalorian language doesn’t have gender?”

“Gender?”

“Male and female,” Luke says.

“Oh.” Kuiil frowns. “Not… really? It’s not… it’s not important. I don’t know… how…”

“It’s okay,” Luke says quickly. “My… _bavodu’e?_ They raised me on Tattooine. They were my family.”

“What happened to them?” Kuiil asks.

“They were killed,” Luke says. “By the Empire.”

Kuiil’s stomach twists with empathy. “Oh,” he whispers. “That’s… terrible.”

Luke nods. “Tell me about your father,” he says. “The Mandalorian. How did he find you?”

Kuiil looks up. “I was a bounty,” he says.

Luke frowns, his brows furrowing. “What does that mean?”

“A bounty. Like… like bounty hunting?”

“... He’s a bounty hunter,” Luke says. “Of course he--wait, he hunted _you?”_

Kuiil nods. “Yeah,” he says. “He did. An Imp wanted me.”

“Imp?”

“Empire.”

“He…” Luke looks concerned now. He shifts his weight. “He was hired by the Empire to hunt a child?”

“He didn’t know,” Kuiil says. “... I don’t think. He was the only one who could get to me.”

“He hunted you and kept you,” Luke says.

“Not at first. He gave me to them. Then came back and took me.”

Luke stares at him. “He… gave a _child_ to an Imperial remnant,” he says. “A Mandalorian would trade a child for… what was the payment?”

“Beskar,” Kuiil says. “It’s his _beskar’gam_ now. His armor.”

“The beskar he wears now,” Luke breathes. “He got that from hunting you.”

“But he came back,” he says. “It broke the Guild code. He had to run away with me and hide. They kept sending people after us. _Beroya’e. Buir_ adopted me and I was _Mando’ade._ He says that giving me up was always his sin.”

Luke looks at him now with sadness. His gaze is worrisome and concerned, and Kuiil frowns.

“He loves me,” he says firmly. “He’s good. There’s a lot of good in him.”

Luke manages a small smile now. “Okay,” he says, soft. “I believe you.”

Kuiil doesn’t feel like he really does. His stomach twists at the thought of making his _buir_ seem bad. _He’s not. He’s not._

_“Don’t question the boy too hard, Luke. You’ll draw him into saying something he doesn’t mean.”_

Kuiil jumps at the voice and turns. Just a few feet away is a shimmering blue form, turning and solidifying until it takes the shape of a person. It appears as an older human man, his hair and beard grey, wearing long robes. Kuiil stares with wide eyes and steps back, quickly hiding behind Luke. He peeks around him, utterly confused. “Who is that?” he whispers.

Luke looks down at him with a smile, then gently nudges him out and in front of him. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he says. “He was a jedi, too. He taught me.”

Kuiil stares at Obi-Wan. He looks kind, and the Force swirls around him, almost as thought he _is_ the Force. Kuiil doesn’t try to hide again but he does put a hand on Luke’s knee, anchoring himself. “I heard you,” he says. “Your… your voice. You talked to me.”

 _“I did,”_ Obi-Wan says. His voice is almost echoing. _“The Force is strong with you, little one. Your strength is incredible for one so young. We’ve watched your journey for years.”_

Behind him, Luke sucks in a breath. A hand taps on the boy’s shoulder. “Kuiil,” he says gently. “Look here. Remember who I was telling you about?”

Kuiil turns in the direction Luke is pointing to. His eyes widen upon seeing yet another shimmering form, but this time, he freezes. He stares at the creature opposite him, who is _exactly like him_ but older.

“Y…” Kuiil looks at Luke. “Yoda?”

Luke smiles and nods.

 _“Watched you, we have,”_ Yoda says. Kuiil recognizes the voice now. The way he talks makes him hold back a giggle--it sounds very silly. _“Difficult, your journey has been.”_

 _“We didn’t anticipate the Mandalorian,”_ Obi-Wan says, sounding amused. _“But it seems he was the one the Force chose to rescue you. Defending you from the hands of Moff Gideon… not many could accomplish as much, or be so committed to it.”_

Kuiil stares up at him, looking back and forth between the two beings.

 _“Took fate into his own hands, your Mandalorian did,”_ Yoda says. _“Adopting you, we did not foresee. Here, you were meant to be, but plans do not always work out, hm?”_

“I was… supposed to come here?”

 _“Din Djarin was destined to reunite you with the jedi,”_ Obi-Wan says. _“You were meant to meet. Few had the strength and dedication to fulfill such a task other than one raised as a Mandalorian. But these paths are never set. They can deviate and branch into new adventures. Your Mandalorian became far too attached to give you up, and so he took you as his son. You were born to be a jedi, Kuiil Djarin, not a Mandalorian.”_

Kuiil frowns at him. He looks down at his bracers, the light glinting off the metal. “But I _am_ a Mandalorian.”

 _“You are,”_ Obi-Wan says, nodding. _“Only proof of how these paths can change.”_

“I don’t want to be a jedi,” Kuiil says. He looks back at Luke nervously. “I… I’m _Mando’ade_ . Not a _jetii._ I don’t… this isn’t home. Not home.” He swallows. “I should… _be_ home.”

It’s getting hard to breathe. Instinctively, he finds himself reaching out for his _buir,_ expecting the warmth of his father’s mind, the calming connection they share. But there is nothing. Nothing at all. His father is too far away. He can’t find him.

His tears begin anew.

“Hey,” Luke says quickly, placing a hand on Kuiil’s shoulder. He turns him, then draws him into his arms. “No need to cry. It’s alright. No one is going to force you to do anything. I promised I would not keep you here.”

“I wanna g… go home,” he whimpers, giving a hard sniff. “I want _buir. Ba’vodu. Yaim, yaim…”_

 _“Then to home, you must return, yes,”_ Yoda says. _“Young and homesick, he is. Old for a youngling, not a jedi. But train him, you must, so he does not fall to the darkness.”_

“The Mandalorian won’t let me train him,” Luke says. “He was going to die to keep me from taking him. No arrangement will work.”

“Maz.” Kuiil looks up at him, sniffling. “Maz trains me.”

Luke looks down at him. “That may not be enough,” he says in a soft voice. 

_“You must learn to balance yourself, dear boy,”_ Obi-Wan says. Kuiil turns to look at him. _“Control of your powers is one thing, but to channel your emotions so that they do not rule you is crucial. The dark side of the Force will seek to tempt you. You must be prepared to resist it.”_

“The dark side,” Kuiil says softly.

 _“A terrible path,”_ Yoda says. _“Anger. Hatred. Fear. Powerful, these emotions are, and lead to suffering, they do. Many powers, the dark side can give you, but come with a price, they all will. Understand your emotions, hm, do not let them control you.”_

Kuiil swallows, then buries his face in Luke’s robe, gripped by fear--and now he’s afraid of that fear. “I don’t want to be that,” he whispers.

“That’s enough,” Luke says quickly, holding Kuiil close. “We don’t need to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just…” He pauses, and a hand comes to his belt beneath the robe. He pulls a small device off it, then looks at the screen. “Your father’s ship is still flying. We’ll wait until he’s landed somewhere so that I can bring you to him, alright?”

Kuiil sniffles and nods.

“Good,” Luke says, and he stands, drawing Kuiil into his arms. “You’ve had a day. Let’s get you somewhere you can rest. Are you hungry?”

Kuiil nods and hides his face in Luke’s shoulder. When Luke turns, he looks up to see the masters have disappeared.

When Din steps down into the covert, every Mandalorian has gathered in the hall, sans the children. Paz and the Armorer stand at the front, and Paz reaches for him immediately, a hand grabbing his arm. “Din,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Banged up,” Din mutters. “... The kid. They’re gone. They’re _gone.”_

“What happened?” the Armorer asks.

There’s tension in the room. A simmering feeling of anger, almost electric in the air. They’ve lost foundlings before--new ones who were already sick when they were brought in, killed before they could really experience their new life. Hopeful pregnancies that were lost and unfortunate chance incidents, even in the safety of their covert.

Foundlings have never been stolen.

“Kuiil had… a Force vision,” Din says. “Maz said they can be glimpses of the future but nothing’s set. He dreamed about a jedi, about… me being killed by the jedi. Being taken by them. Maz thought it might’ve been Luke Skywalker.” He takes a deep breath. “We went to Naviion to buy something. A toy for him. Just to… make him feel better. Then Skywalker showed up.”

“How did he get away with the kid?”

Din looks at him. “He wanted the kid to train,” he says. “I said no. He wasn’t going to let us leave, so… we fought. It was even for a while. Beskar holds up good against lightsabers.”

“Good,” Paz says.

“But he still has the Force.” Din squeezes his eyes shut. The memory is agonizing. “I told Kuiil to stay on the ship but he came out. I was telling him to go back, when… Skywalker swung again. I got thrown against the ship. I couldn’t move. Just watch. The kid threw me.”

The Mandalorians are silent.

“The kid,” Paz repeats.

“I think he was getting me out of the way of the swing. I barely remember what came after, just… Skywalker reaching for him.” Din’s breath comes fast. “I woke up in the ship and they were gone. I don’t know where they went or how. I don’t know if he’s got his own ship or what it looks like or--”

“Din,” Paz says. “Breathe.”

Din does so. He tries to collect himself, then looks at the Armorer.

“I’ll burn half the galaxy if it means getting him back,” he says.

“Of course,” the Armorer says. “The boy is a foundling and we will defend our own. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” the Mandalorians repeat.

Din looks at Paz. His stomach is in knots. “I already messaged Maz for what she might know,” he says. “But she hasn’t responded. He trains students, but I have no idea where his school might be. There’s nothing. I have _nothing.”_

“We’ll find something,” Paz says. “There will be something somewhere. Maz may get to us eventually.”

Din hates the optimism. He knows they _have_ to be optimistic. They have to talk as though they will certainly get Kuiil back, because anything else leads to despair and lack of will to find him. But his _son_ is _gone_ and he wants nothing but to destroy whatever the hell Skywalker might love. He doesn’t want to be optimistic. He just wants to be angry.

“Does Skywalker have a history anywhere?” someone asks. “If he’s a jedi, was he with the rebellion?”

“He was!” Jaylen Tero steps up, a holopad in his hands. “New Republic records credit him with destroying the first Death Star. Senator Leia Organa awarded him after the battle of Yavin.”

“So he’s Republican?” Din hisses. “Damn it--”

“Do we know any rebels?” Jaylen asks, looking up. “He might be New Republic but there’s no indication of a jedi order being affiliated with them. He might just be ex-rebel now. I don’t think he’d bring the wrath of the Republic down on us.”

Paz shifts. “Either way, that’s a chance we’ll have to take.” There’s a pause. He looks at Din. “We know a rebel.”

“Dune,” Din says.

“Dune,” Paz agrees. “Looks like we’re heading to Nevarro.”

It’s a small chance. Cara never really talked about her service besides the reason she left it behind. If they have any luck, maybe she knew Skywalker or at least knows of someone who might have information.

“It’s something,” Din says.

“I’m coming!”

Both turn to look at Ari, who pushes out of the crowd and crosses her arms. “I’m coming,” she repeats.

Din shakes his head. “No, Ari, this isn’t some hunt--”

“Of course it is.” Ari smiles. “Only this time we’re hunting my cousin to get him back. I’m _coming.”_

Din looks at her. Then at Paz, who shrugs and only walks towards the door.

“You’re staying on the ship,” Din says.

“... Fine.”

Ari walks to follow Paz towards the stairs. Din turns to leave, but a firm _“Din.”_ has him turning to face the Armorer. She steps up to him.

“If there is a way to end this civilly,” she says, “then you are to choose that.”

Din frowns. “Be _civil._ He took my son. He took a _foundling.”_

“And we will get that foundling back. But Skywalker is dangerous, even if you could hold against him in a fight. He is a jedi who is training more jedi. He may have sway within the authority of the New Republic. Our secrecy is our survival, Din, and as justified as your anger is, we _cannot_ bring that hell down on ourselves. Or we may lose much more than a single foundling.”

Din stares at her.

“If there is a way to get the child back without a _single shot,”_ the Armorer says, stern now, “then you will not so much as draw your blaster. Understood?”

Din swallows, his jaw set and fists at his side. “And if there is no peaceful way?” he hisses.

“Then we _will_ burn Skywalker to the ground,” she says. Then, she steps back. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Din says.

With his blood hot in his veins, he turns and walks up out of the covert.

The morning on Yavin-4 draws dark grey clouds, blocking out the sun and showering the surface with thick rain drops. Kuiil sits in front of columned windows, staring out at the stormy skies.

Footsteps approach from behind. He doesn’t need to look to recognize Luke’s Force signature. It stands out so differently.

Luke doesn’t speak, instead sitting down beside him. Kuiil looks up at him now, then back out the windows.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Fine,” Kuiil says.

“That’s good.” Luke glances at him. “I need to talk to you about some things. Before you leave for the Mandalorians.”

Kuiil looks back at him.

“I think you were scared by the talk about the dark side. It’s a scary thing. But I just want you to understand it, especially if you choose to leave this place.”

“Okay,” Kuiil says.

“Fear, anger, hate… they aren’t _inherently_ bad things. Feeling angry or afraid isn’t going to drag you into the dark. It’s only dangerous when you let those feelings control your actions. When you start to do things _because_ you’re angry or afraid. That leads to hurting people, even people you love. Does that make sense?”

Kuiil nods. “I think.”

“Even I feel tempted,” Luke says. “Every jedi has felt called to the dark side. There’s nothing wrong with it as long as you have the strength to resist. That’s why I wish I could have you here. So you can face temptation with the support of those who have experienced the same. So I can help you.”

Kuiil shifts. He frowns at the floor, thinking about it. The Force feels nice here. But the Temple is so big and so empty, dark in places where the lights don’t reach. The covert can feel dark, too, but it’s never bothered him much before.

“Will I fall if I go home?” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” Luke says. “Really, I don’t. You might. You might not. I don’t know everything that the Mandalorians teach so I can’t say if it’s something that will keep you from falling.” Luke looks at him. “You’re very strong, Kuiil. What comes naturally to you can take lots of training for someone else to achieve.”

 _“Buir_ says he won’t let me fall.”

“Kuiil…” Luke pauses, hesitant. “Do you… know your lifespan?”

Kuiil tilts his head. “What’s… lifespan?”

“How long you will live,” Luke says. “Some species can live very long lifespans, and live many centuries, and some don’t.”

Kuiil frowns. “What’s my… lifespan? Like _buir’s?”_

Luke glances at the floor, then at him. “You will live a very long time,” he says. “Master Yoda died at 900 years old, and you’re only 56. Your father… he won’t have that lifespan. He will live like an ordinary human.”

Kuiil stares at him. “How… how long is… that?”

“Your father may live for another fifty or sixty years. I don’t know how old he is myself. But that’s if he isn’t killed in battle.” Luke puts a hand on his shoulder. “You will have to deal with losing him. Losing the Mandalorians of your covert. Loss is difficult, but—“

“No,” Kuiil whispers. “No. You’re lying.”

Luke frowns. “I know you don’t want to accept it, but—“

“No!” Kuiil pulls away from him and stands. “You’re _lying. Buir_ won’t die. _Buir_ can’t die, he won’t, why are you—“

“Kuiil!” Luke says. “I’m not lying to you. I’m trying to help you. This is something you can’t—“

 _“NO!”_ He backs up. He’s hyperventilating. The thought of living without _buir_ makes him want to cry. “No, no, no. You’re a liar. I want to go home. I want to go _home! Aruetii!”_

Luke raises his hands in surrender. “Take a deep breath. This is where you have to control your emotions. Now--”

Kuiil doesn’t think of it, doesn’t realize he’s done it until his hands are in the air. Until his hands are squeezing into fists and Luke’s hands fly to his throat. His eyes go wide and he stares at Kuiil with horror, dropping to his knees with a _thud._

“Stop,” he chokes, “K… _st…”_

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body. He’s not in control. Not until Luke’s hand flies out and shoves him back, not enough to throw him but the trance breaks and he stumbles back, landing on the floor. Luke collapses down on his hands, coughing, his face red and purple. 

_Guilt._ Kuiil stares down at his own hands with fear, then at Luke, and he pushes himself back further. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. _Ni ceta._ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”

Luke pushes himself back and coughs some more before trying to straighten. “It’s… okay,” he says, his voice hoarse. He looks up at Kuiil. “It’s okay. I’ll… take you home. As soon as I can.”

At that, he gets up and walks towards the door. Outside, lightning strikes. Then, thunder booms, and the rain seems to slam against the window panes with greater force. Tears of guilt fill Kuiil’s eyes and he lets out a sob, curling up tightly.

Minutes pass with nothing but the storm to keep him company. Then, a presence appears at his side. His senses detect it, but he only buries his face further into his arms and sniffles. “Go away,” he whispers. “Go away.”

_“Confront this, you must, young Djarin.”_

Kuiil looks up. Yoda sits beside him, his head bowed and eyes shut. A walking stick is held across his lap. After a moment of silence, he looks up and nods at Kuiil.

_“Ignore this, you cannot.”_

“I don’t know what it is!” Kuiil whimpers.

 _“Your fear. Your hate. Fear of losing your family, and hatred of what could take them, is what you must confront.”_ Yoda nods. _“Speak the truth, young Skywalker does. Tact, he does not always have. But truth nonetheless. Loss, you must deal with. Slow, time will not.”_

Kuiil swallows back the lump in his throat. “Were you really 900?” he says, wringing his hands together.

 _“And pretty for it, I was not.”_ Yoda chuckles. _“Loss, all people face. Us, more than others. Thousands of younglings did I train. Lost, they all were. To death, or to the dark side. But cared for all, I did.”_

“How? Th-thousands, how did you…”

 _“Learned attachment, I did. Good, love is. Important. Pure. Crucial it is, for you to know love. Different, attachment must be. Understand, you must, when not to care_ too much. _To savor your time, but know when death comes, and ready for it, you will be.”_

Kuiil sniffles. He stares out at the storm, flinching when thunder booms again. “I don’t want to lose _buir,”_ he says. “I can’t… I can’t save him?”

 _“Something to interfere with, death is not. To stop death, or bring one back -- terribly dangerous, it is.”_ Yoda shakes his head. _“No, child. Sorry, I am, but nothing you can do, there is. Dead must stay dead.”_

Kuiil fiddles with the hem of his tunic. His tears continue to come, but they are not flowing and he does not sob. He stares at the floor, at his beskar bracers. “I wish I didn’t have powers,” he whispers. He glares at his hands. “I don’t want them. I don’t want the Force! I just want to be Mandalorian. _Just_ Mandalorian.”

 _“Brought Din Djarin to you, the Force did,”_ Yoda says, shaking his head. _“Discovered, you were not, before the Republic fell. Good, that was, and survived, you did. Kind, life will not always be, and tricky, fate is. Choose our circumstances, we cannot. Adapt, we can.”_

Kuiil closes his eyes. His hands curl into fists. “I’m scared,” he whispers. “Scared that I’m… the dark side. I’m scared of… it.”

 _“Scared that you have already fallen, hm?”_ Yoda asks.

Kuiil nods. “I don’t want to hurt people. I… I didn’t want to h-hurt Luke. It… it just…”

_“Search your feelings, you must, little one. Feel the Force. Examine it. Empty your mind, yes, and feel.”_

Kuiil stares at the ground. He closes his eyes, then tries to push away all other thoughts. He takes a deep breath, wipes at his tears, and straightens his back like Maz keeps reminding him to. His ears fold back as he attempts to turn inward.

 _“Good,”_ Yoda rumbles beside him. _“Flows in you, the Force does. Reach for it.”_

If he tries hard enough, he _can_ feel it. The Force is strong inside of him, clinging to every portion of his body. It’s always, always been there, since his earliest memory. It provided a companion when he had nothing outside of a shielded pram. Kuiil sucks in a breath, feeling the Force envelope him in a hug.

The Force is like pure beskar, shiny and smooth. _Beautiful,_ they would call it at home, _sacred._ He runs his hands along it, touching, feeling its essence. But then his hands run over something and he looks to see red. Splintering red lines, all protruding from a single mark. It flows out like blood.

 _No._ He reaches for the source, to wipe it clean with his sleeve, but the moment he touches it, he _screams._

Visions jump before his eyes.

 _He stands in the halls of the covert, pools of blood before him. Bodies are lying on the floor, piled on top of each other. Visors are smashed in, helmets removed, revealing dead faces he’s never seen before. Bodies of stormtroopers are mingled with them. He turns to see his_ buir _on the floor_ , _gasping to breathe. It’s raspy through the helmet, blood running from beneath. He’s reaching for his blaster, barely in reach._

“Buir,” _he whispers._

Buir _grabs the blaster and points it at him. There’s a second’s pause._

_“I loved you,” he hisses._

_The trigger fires, and it all stretches into black._

_He’s standing in a corridor on a ship. Stormtroopers walk by. “Well done, my pet,” a voice drawls. He jumps and turns to look; someone in all black is on one knee beside him, but their face doesn’t exist. “You’ve done all I asked.”_

_He hears ragged, mechanical breathing._

_It changes again and he’s standing in the center of a temple. Soldiers in white armor are marching, their guns raised to shoot. Their helmets look Mandalorian, but they’re not. On the other side of them, lightsabers swing and spin to block._

_“Get the Padawans out!” someone yells. “I’ll hold them!”_

_Then there’s a scream, and there are no more lightsabers swinging._

_He stands inside a building. A Mandalorian walks in the center of the room, striding with purpose—no, it’s_ buir, _his armor shiny and new. He holds a bundle in one arm, aiming forward with his blaster. The door in front opens and a stormtrooper steps out—_ buir _is fast to shoot him. The door behind opens now._ Buir _spins, pulling the bundle out of the way of a shot, and swings his arm around to unleash a cloud of fire. The stormtrooper screams._

_“Din Djarin thinks he can protect the asset from me.” He knows that voice. He’s only just heard it. It stirs a deeper memory. “But I will destroy his pitiful clan. Fitting that it will be the wielder of the Darksaber to slaughter them.”_

_There’s a laugh. A lightsaber ignites. It’s flat with no color._

The vision disappears. Kuiil is left staring at the ceiling of the temple’s room, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat sticking to his skin. He can’t speak. He can’t even try.

_“A vision, you saw.”_

“W…” He trembles. “What… was… I-I…”

Yoda bows his head, eyes shut. He takes a breath. _“The past or present, visions can show us. The future, they predict. But dangerous, the future is. Never set. Never locked in. Always changing, our paths are. Killed by Skywalker, you thought your father would be. But alive, he is. Change, these visions can. Answer your question, did you?”_

Kuiil stares at him. “M-My… I. I th-think… yes.” He swallows. “I’m… I have the dark side. It was… red. Red lines. Like… cracked ice.”

Yoda nods. _“Lines, we all have, even the strongest of jedi.”_

“Does it mean…” Kuiil begins to sit up. “That I’ll fall?”

 _“Will you, hm?”_ Yoda gives him a half smile. _“Give in to anger, will you? Fear? Hate? Allow these to control you, will you? Use your power to kill? To hurt?”_

“No! No, I…” Kuiil pauses. “I don’t want to.”

_“Don’t want to, or will not, hm? Different, these are. Tempting, the dark side is, and many promises, it makes. Heard of Darth Vader, have you?”_

Kuiil frowns. “I think so. He was… he was Empire?”

Yoda nodded, solemn. _“A jedi, he was once. The Chosen One. Lured to the dark side, he was. Many promises, the Emperor made to him. The ones he loved, he believed he could save, but only pain did he bring.”_ Yoda sighs. _“Hmm. Smoke and mirrors, it all is.”_

Kuiil stares at the floor. Then, at the door Luke left through. “I saw the covert destroyed,” he whispers. “My family. They were all… dead. Did I…”

Yoda looks at him, then leans back, his eyes closed. _“Frightening, visions can be. Best not to fret too much. Feel to you, how did it?”_

“It felt like… like it was me.” Kuiil shifts. _“Buir_ wouldn’t hurt me. Not unless… if…”

 _“Dwell on the future, you should not,”_ Yoda says. _“Lose the path in front of you, you will, and stumble, you soon do.”_

Kuiil swallows.

_“Return to the Mandalorians, and fall, you may not. Know, we cannot. Yours are these decisions.”_

“How do I know if it’s ri—“ Kuiil turns.

But Yoda has disappeared.

Luke strides down the hallway, a hand tenderly touching the side of his throat. There’s no bruising, but it hurts to swallow. His heart is still pounding.

He felt the dark side _surge_ inside the child. It was _horrifying._

_“Continue to lie to him, will you?”_

Luke jumps and turns quickly. Obi-Wan stands beside the wall, his arms folded and a disapproving look on his face.

 _“You know where the Mandalorian is,”_ Obi-Wan accuses. _“You could have brought him home hours ago and you keep him here.”_

“Did you _see_ that?” Luke says, his voice still hoarse. “He could’ve killed me. He’s already been influenced by the dark side. I don’t know what that Mandalorian put him through, but—“

_“You cannot blame the Mandalorian when these forces are out of his control. The boy was alive during the time of the jedi, it was our duty to find and train him. Anything could have happened in the 50 years before he ever met the Mandalorian. He may have been in the Empire’s hands before.”_

Luke takes a deep breath. “He _has_ to stay here,” he says. “The Mandalorian can’t save him from this.”

 _“Few can stop one from journeying down that path,”_ Obi-Wan says. _“I could not stop Anakin from that fate. You may be just as powerless. Perhaps the Mandalorian does have a better chance—strong, pure love can be. Stronger than evil.”_

Luke stares at him. “My father fell to the dark side trying to save my mother. Out of love for _her._ How is the Mandalorian going to be stronger?”

 _“Anakin’s love for Padmé wasn’t pure, but tainted by his own anger and fear,”_ Obi-Wan says. _“He feared losing her so much that he turned to unnatural forces to prevent her death. This is not the case with the Djarins. What I sense between them is the pure love of a parent and their child. The kind that is only acceptance and understanding. Patient and gentle.”_

“The boy fears losing his father,” Luke says. “He didn’t even realize that he was going to outlive him.”

 _“A conversation that was not yours to have,”_ Obi-Wan says, his tone stern. Luke frowns. _“That was between the boy and his father, not you.”_

Luke doesn’t respond.

_“Take him home. The child is upset and stressed without his family. He must be trained, yes, but not under these circumstances. You will only drive him away. Meet with the Mandalorian and discuss the matter.”_

“The Mandalorian won’t _meet_ with me,” Luke says. “He’ll shoot first.”

 _“A situation you will have to resolve. And before the Mandalorians find this place and take him back by force.”_ Obi-Wan’s expression is firm. _“You must handle this with more delicacy, Luke. The boy is volatile by nature of his youth. He has already tasted the dark side, and you cannot know what he has witnessed. His comfort is with his father. Reunite them, or accelerate his descent into darkness.”_

Luke stares at him. “I don’t want to separate a family,” he says. “But if the boy falls anyway, I--I don’t want to be fighting him in thirty years. I don’t want to be defending the galaxy against another Sith Lord when I could’ve done something _now._ If letting him return to his clan means that thousands can be slaughtered in the future--”

 _“Worrying over a future that has not come to fruition is only going to lead you towards dark decisions,”_ Obi-Wan says. _“I understand your concerns, Luke. The boy’s future with the Mandalorians is mysterious and not something we can see. Do not look at a young child and see only the worst in him.”_ He pauses. _“That was a mistake we made with your father.”_

Luke falls silent.

 _“You promised to bring the boy home,”_ Obi-Wan says. _“Do not make yourself the villain here. You know that forcing Kuiil to stay will only breed resentment.”_

Luke swallows. “I know,” he admits. “I… know.”

 _“Force the Mandalorian to listen,”_ Obi-Wan says. _“It is the only way. And your situation to resolve.”_

Luke lets out a breath, then nods. “I will,” he says.

Obi-Wan nods, then fades away.

Luke stands there for a moment, then turns and begins to walk. It was past time he reach out to Maz Kanata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Alor -- leader  
> Aliit -- clan/family  
> Bavodu'e -- aunts/uncles  
> Aruetiise -- outsiders/traitors/foreigners  
> Beskar'gam -- armor  
> Beroya'e -- bounty hunters  
> Faim -- home
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)


	5. The Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t tell me you’re _sympathetic_ to Skywalker,” Din says.
> 
> “Not at all,” Paz says. “But he has the kid. We play nice until we have him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter of the fic.
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

“I’m sorry,” Cara says. “I wouldn’t know anything. I never even met Skywalker. All his friends are New Republic or stars know where.”

Din feels his stomach sink. He leans both arms on the table and feels his head dip, despair gripping every cell in his body. “Maz hasn’t responded,” he whispers. “We have no leads at all.”

Cara looks at him with a sad expression, her gaze flickering between him and Paz.

The common house isn’t at its usual occupancy. A few hunters are lingering around but they’re invested in their own conversations, giving them privacy. Karga is nowhere to be found, which gives them peace to talk.

“Din,” Paz says, his voice low. “We don’t have _nothing.”_

“Sure looks like it!” Din snaps. “We don’t have coordinates, a planet, a system, I don’t even know what fucking ship he has. Knowing he’s got an academy isn’t enough. We don’t exactly have _friends_ in the New Republic. It’s a dead end.”

“Not exactly,” Cara says. “You said Maz Kanata hasn’t responded. That’s not a _no._ For all you know, she’s reaching out to Skywalker herself.” She shrugs. “And the kid is both smart and completely devoted to you. He’s not going to let himself just be taken. For all you know, he’s giving Skywalker a hell of a lot of trouble right now.”

Din just digs his fingers into the table. “I’m going to kill him,” he growls. “I’m going to take that stupid lightsaber and shove it up his--”

Paz sighs. “Let’s focus on finding the kid first.”

“Reach out to Maz again,” Cara says. “Or go see her yourself. There must be something to do. He’s somewhere, not disappeared.”

Din takes a deep breath. He looks at Paz, then down at the table and sighs. “Then we’re going to Takodana,” he says. “Damn it. If she doesn’t know, then… there’s nothing.”

“Thank you, Cara,” Paz says. He slides out of the booth and Din follows.

“I wish I had something for you,” Cara says. She slides out of her side of the booth. “I’ll go with you to the ship, at least.”

Din and Paz nod to her. They walk out of the common house together and out into the street. The sun shines down, reflecting off Din’s beskar even if it’s become dirtied from time. They walk side by side.

Cara hasn’t changed much. Her hair is slightly longer, still braided on one side. The armor she wears has been upgraded, newer though the color scheme is the same, and her sleeves are lengthened just enough to hide her tattoo. As much as Din dislikes it, she does well as Karga’s Guild enforcer. She has her own skill at bringing in bounties. Even better skill at keeping the hunters in line.

“You’ll find him,” she says. “Din. You will.”

“I… know,” he says.

“You could sound more confident about it.” Cara gives him an elbow. “Hey. He’s not _gone._ He’s not dead. Find that school of his and I’d personally help you siege it to get the womp rat back.”

Din manages a snort. “You’d siege the temple of a man who was your commander in the rebellion?”

“Hey, Skywalker never gave me direct orders. Senator Organa, on the other hand…” Cara smiles. “Besides, the tattoo and hatred for Imps is all that’s left of the rebel in me. I’m a damn bounty hunter now.”

“Didn’t have to be a bounty hunter,” Din says.

“What, join you on the _Razor Crest?_ You can’t afford me, Djarin.” Cara smiles. “Besides, you and the kid are either hunting or in the covert. What am I doing when you’re home?”

“You could be with us,” Din says.

Cara rolls her eyes. “This again.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“You’re not converting me to your religion, Djarin, no matter how many times you try. Too many people have seen my face, anyway.”

 _“Cin vhetin,”_ Din says. “Whatever you do before the Creed doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to be born or raised a Mandalorian,” Paz says. “You’re free to convert and join us.”

“The idea’s cute, boys, but I’ll pass.”

Somehow, the banter makes Din feel a little better.

They approach the _Razor Crest._ Din reaches for his vambrace, but the door already begins to lower. Ari comes running down the ramp, out of breath, her boots skidding against the metal in an effort to not slip. “Din!” she says. “Maz. It’s Maz. She responded.”

Din freezes. “What did she say?” he demands.

“She says she knows,” Ari says. “Skywalker contacted her. She says she’ll let the two of you meet at her castle if you can stay civil under her roof.”

“Is he bringing the kid?” Din says. “Ask if he’s bringing the kid with him, if he’s giving him back!”

Ari nods and turns, running back up the ramp. Paz puts a hand on Din’s arm, then follows her. Din steps to follow when Cara grabs him by the wrist and he turns to face her.

“Hey,” she says. “Good luck.” And she pulls him into a tight hug.

Din pauses, then hugs her back. “Thanks,” he says.

Cara steps back and nods. “Let me know when he’s back with you,” she says.

“I will.”

“Din!” Paz calls. “Let’s go!”

Din gives her a nod, then turns and runs onto the _Crest_ as the door beginning to lift behind him.

Kuiil is startled awake by a hand on his shoulder. His eyes open and he sits up quickly, gasping.

Luke is leaning over him and he quickly moves back. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Kuiil stares up at him. He pulls his akk dog in close, squeezing it against his chest. Luke _looks_ okay, but the memory of what he did begins to bubble in his mind and he swallows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Luke frowns for a moment, then he turns it into a small smile. “It’s alright,” he says. “Really. I understand.”

Kuiil swallows. Luke still has terrible bruising under his eyes and above, and he can see that one of his hands is wrapped. He reaches up towards Luke, who takes his hand with a confused expression. Kuiil shakes his head and stands. “I can heal you,” he says softly. “Your face. I can… I can fix.”

Luke stares at him for a moment, then nods. “Okay,” he says. “Show me.”

Kuiil moves forward, then climbs onto Luke’s leg to reach. Luke lets him. He reaches a hand up and carefully, he places it against Luke’s cheek. He’s just human, like _buir._ Kuiil closes his eyes and dips his head, reaching for the Force. It responds, almost purring at his call.

 _Heal,_ he thinks. _Fix._

Like he’s done many times before, he feels the Force flow from his hand and into the damaged areas. Luke sucks in a breath. Kuiil takes his own deep breath to hold on, to keep his focus.

It isn’t terrible damage. Feeling tired, he pulls his hand back, then slides off Luke’s leg.

Luke lightly touches a hand beneath his eye, then at his nose. “Incredible,” he says softly. “Your abilities are amazing.”

Kuiil manages a sleepy smile, then reaches for his dog.

“I’m going to take you home,” Luke says.

He pauses, then quickly turns to look at him. Relief and excitement threaten to flood him, and though he’s hesitant to feel it, Luke looks serious.

“We can go whenever you’re ready.”

Kuiil jumps to his feet. “Really? To _buir?_ Really?”

Luke smiles. “Yes, really.”

“Now!”

“Alright, alright. Come here.”

Kuiil lets Luke take him into his arms, then grips his toy and jumps up onto his shoulder. He lands and balances himself, then steadies with his claws. Luke gives him an amused look, then begins to walk.

“To home?” Kuiil asks.

“To Takodana,” Luke says. “We’re going to meet with Maz Kanata. Your _buir_ will meet us there.”

“Okay!” Kuiil says. He’d much prefer to just go right home, but Takodana is okay, too.

They walk out of the temple and into the sun. Kuiil shuts his eyes against it for a moment before he adjusts and can peer around.

Yavin-4 is beautiful. The Force feels so strong here. But it isn’t his home.

Luke walks to a ship. It’s smaller than Kuiil’s seen before, and the cockpit seems so _small,_ at least for someone Luke’s size. But he climbs up the side and steps in, _somehow_ fitting just right, and settles in. He reaches out to grab a helmet, but it isn’t like _buir’s._ It’s round and white with an orange visor. Kuiil slips off his shoulder and into his lap, looking around at all the buttons and controls.

The dome above lowers, encasing them inside the ship. Kuiil lets himself sit back against Luke, clutching his toy. 

“I’m not going to be bad,” he says.

Luke looks down at him. “Hm?”

“I’m not going to be bad,” he repeats. “I’m not going to fall. I don’t want to hurt anyone. So I won’t.”

Luke pauses, then smiles and continues flipping switches. “That’s good,” he says. “That’s very good.”

The ship lifts off the ground, rising into the air. The trees begin to disappear, receding away from blue skies. Kuiil watches as they rise higher. Blue begins to turn dark; it fades into purple, and the stars are visible.

They fly amongst them.

Luke hits buttons and switches, awkward as he has to reach around Kuiil, and Kuiil just leans back against him. He’s warm and comfortable, unlike _buir_ who can be warm but has so much beskar that it’s hard to be comfortable. Luke is soft. He doesn’t wear hard plates of armor. Kuiil likes it.

“I thought you’d be really mean,” he says. “After… after the vision and the ship. I thought you’d hurt me.”

Luke makes a hum. “It makes sense for you to think that,” he says. “Your vision of me was scary. I didn’t do things the way I should’ve.”

“I had another,” Kuiil says.

Luke pauses. “Another vision?”

Kuiil nods. “It was scarier. It was… I was bad. Really bad. I hurt the covert. I… I think I turned bad.” He frowns. “I saw _jetii._ In a big place, and there were—there were Mandalorians, but they _weren’t Mando’ade._ They wore white like… like troopers.”

“Clones,” Luke says softly. His grip tightens on the controls.

Kuiil shrugs. “They were fighting the _jetii._ They died. Then… I saw _buir._ I think he was holding… me. When I was smaller. He was killing troopers, I—I think it was when he took me back.”

Luke is quiet for a moment. Kuiil feels him take a breath. “That was certainly a vision,” he says. “You saw the past. I think you saw the purge of the jedi. When the clone troopers turned on the jedi and killed them.”

Kuiil swallows. “The… the covert. Was that… the future?”

“I don’t know.” Luke hits more buttons, then a final switch, and he puts a hand on Kuiil’s shoulder to keep him steady as they jump into hyperspace.

The stars go shooting past. Kuiil watches.

“How do _I_ know?” he whispers.

“There isn’t a way to find out. Not unless it comes to pass.” Luke looks at the navigation map. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew a way to help you. But Force visions aren’t absolute and they can be misleading. I’ve had my own and been fooled by them.”

Kuiil frowns. “It’s not going to happen,” he says softly. “I won’t let it.”

“You’re a smart boy, Kuiil. You may not be a jedi, but perhaps you don’t need to be.” Luke looks ahead. “You have people who love you. Who want the best for you. That love might be all you need to stay in the light.”

“Am I still going to train with Maz?” Kuiil asks.

Luke smiles slightly. “We’ll talk to your father about that,” he says.

Kuiil nods and looks up at the streaking stars.

“Hey,” Luke says. “How do you say ‘peace’ in your language?”

Kuiil pauses. _“Naak,”_ he says. “Why?”

When they walk towards the castle, it feels… lonely. Only once has Din come here without the kid and that was a painful memory. This manages to feel just as painful when there’s no Kuiil hanging on his hip or shoulder. Paz and Ari are with him, but it’s lonely nonetheless.

They pull open a door and Din has to stop. He stares into the empty bar, so expectant of a loud crowd that the silence is jarring. His hand drifts to his blaster as he takes a step inside.

“Maz?” he calls.

There’s a beat of silence before there’s a soft clatter and Maz calls back. “Come in!”

Din relaxes and walks further in. Ari follows, then Paz, each lowering their weapons. Maz appears from around a table.

“Come in, come in,” she says. “Skywalker hasn’t arrived yet.”

Din’s jaw tightens. “You said he’s coming.”

“He is,” Maz says. “He reached out to _me,_ Djarin, about wanting to return the child to you. He’ll be here.”

Din doesn’t respond. Maz rolls her eyes, then turns and walks to a round table near the center of the bar. The Mandalorians follow.

Ari elbows Din’s arm. He looks at her. “You told her your name?” she whispers.

“She’s trustworthy,” Din says.

Ari’s helmet hides her expression and she doesn’t respond.

“Where is everyone?” Paz asks, an edge of suspicion in his voice as they approach the table.

“Calm down, Vizla, I closed for the day,” Maz says. “Best if we don’t have a million eyes witness a jedi meeting a Mandalorian to exchange a child, hm?”

“We’re not _exchanging_ anything,” Din says. “He doesn’t get anything for returning what he stole.”

“But you are,” Maz says. “He’d drop the boy off at my door if he didn’t want anything in return.”

Din makes fists at his sides, seething. Paz clears his throat. “What does he want?” he asks.

“To be shot, apparently,” Din snaps.

“Din,” Paz says.

“What, like he gets to make dema--”

“He wants your consideration,” Maz says, her stern voice breaking through. “He will return Kuiil to you but wants your undivided attention about his concerns.”

“Okay,” Ari says. “We get Kuiil back and all we have to do is listen. That’s easy.”

“Ari,” Din snaps.

“Din,” she says.

“We shouldn’t have to--”

“Din!” Paz growls. “You want him back and you’re angry that he was ever taken. We all are. But it’s not a _ransom._ His concerns might be something we actually want to hear, for the kid’s sake.”

Din stares at him.

“Put the claws away, Din,” Paz says. “Just sit down and keep your mouth shut if you’re only going to be hostile.”

Ari and Maz have taken their seats. Din sets his jaw, then slides into a seat. Paz watches him for a second, then follows.

“Don’t tell me you’re _sympathetic_ to Skywalker,” Din says.

“Not at all,” Paz says. “But he has the kid. We play nice until we have him.”

Din scowls. He looks Maz. “You trust him?” he asks. “That he’ll have the kid at all?”

“I do trust him,” Maz says. “Calm yourself.”

“He has my _son—“_

The front door begins to creak, then opens. The Mandalorians are on their feet in an instant, hands straying to their weapons. Din feels his heart stop, eyes searching, as his finger curls around his blaster.

Luke Skywalker steps through the door, the child held on his hip. His eyes flicker over the Mandalorians but he appears unfazed as he walks towards the table.

Kuiil turns. He looks over his shoulder, pressed against Luke’s, then perks up as he spots Din. _“Buir!”_ he shrieks. _“Buir!”_

Skywalker pauses, then puts him down on the floor. Din kicks the chair away as he makes a break for the kid, and Kuiil only makes a few steps before he’s swept into Din’s arms. Din pulls him to his chest, falling on his knees, and the kid lets out a whimper as he burrows against Din’s cowl. They grip each other with desperation, like it’s been years rather than a day.

 _“Buir,”_ Kuiil whimpers. _“Buir…”_

“I have you,” Din says back, taking a deep breath. “I have you.”

Their minds clash. Kuiil shoves against him so hard that it’s almost overwhelming, hit all at once by waves of relief and love and misery. Din squeezes him tighter. They press together. Din lets out a breath as Kuiil’s presence floods his mind. It’s comforting. It’s normal.

Their foreheads lean together. Kuiil’s claws are tangled in the folds of his cowl, tears in his eyes even as he smiles. Din watches him, breathless, his grip on the kid tight. He feels him for injuries, but there’s nothing obvious. No flinching, no pain.

 _“Kadala?”_ he whispers. _“Shupur’yc?”_

The kid sniffles and shakes his head. “Fine,” he whispers back.

“He didn’t do anything to you?”

Another head shake.

He’s so, so relieved. Never in his life has he felt this much joy at holding his son.

Only when a chair scrapes against the floor are they brought back to the present, and Din stands. Skywalker has taken a seat across from the Mandalorians and Din returns to his own, this time with Kuiil firm against his chest. The kid just holds onto him, his breath steady.

“I wish things had gone differently,” Skywalker says.

Din looks at him. His jaw is tight. “Somehow we’re back exactly where we were.”

“Not exactly.” Skywalker takes a deep breath. “We should get certain things out of the way. I’m not going to take the child from you. He belongs with you and with his family, that’s clear.”

“Thanks,” Din snaps, “I know.”

Skywalker looks at him but doesn’t rise to it. His facial expression, though, has regret. “I was rash and presumptive,” he says. “I… felt the boy’s capabilities and assumed only the worst of them. Of you and your people. That wasn’t fair. I’ve realized that I’ve done more damage than the good I thought I was doing.”

Din pauses, staring at him.

“I haven’t had good experiences with Mandalorians. Boba Fett was hired to turn in my friend to the Hutts during the rebellion.” Skywalker pauses. “It may have given me more bias against you. I apologize.”

Din doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know _what_ to say. He was far more prepared for a fight than an apology. His blood is still simmering hot. Skywalker gives away no lie indicators, no tells, if he’s lying than he’s good at it. Din only sits still and instead reaches for Kuiil’s presence, where he’s happily curled in his mind.

 _Do you think he’s honest?_ He asks.

Kuiil’s presence shifts beside his consciousness. _Yes,_ comes the response. _I don’t think he’s lying._

When Din makes no response, Paz leans forward. “Boba Fett is no Mandalorian,” he says. “He wears our symbols and our style but does not follow our code and his armor is pathetic durasteel. He’s not at all indicative of our people.”

Skywalker nods in understanding. He glances towards Maz, then back at Din. “We have to talk about Kuiil,” he says. “About… certain influences he’s had. I have concerns.”

Kuiil’s claws dig in deeper. His breathing shifts. Din frowns, then holds Kuiil tighter. _Are you okay?_

_I did a… bad thing._

“Has he ever used the Force to hurt somebody before? To choke them?”

Din freezes at that. Kuiil stiffens. Then Din looks at Paz, who meets his gaze.

_The kid’s hand tightens. Din stares at Cara as she claws for breath, eyes wide. “Dune!” Paz says, jumping up from his seat._

_“What—“ Din mutters, when he sees the kid. His blood freezes but he lunges forward, grabbing him. “Hey, hey, stop! Stop! Cara is a friend!”_

_The kid stares at him with a confused expression as Cara gasps for air. He turns to look at Paz, who stares back with the same shock, before he turns and checks on Cara._

“He… did,” Din says. “Once. He was still a baby.”

Luke nods, his expression grave. “Using the Force to harm is associated with the dark side,” he says. “But for a child to use it--violence is learned, not inherent. I doubt you could possibly know what’s happened to him between his birth and your discovery of him, it’s 50 years worth of experience and he may not remember it.” He glances at Kuiil. “But he could have internalized what he saw. Unless he remembers, that’s a very dangerous thing. Especially when he’s already tasted the dark side.”

Din stares at him. Kuiil squirms, his presence turning frightened and upset and guilty. _It’s okay,_ Din thinks. _It’s okay. It will be okay._

“The dark side,” he says.

“You said Moff Gideon is the one searching for him,” Skywalker says.

“He ordered a bounty put on the kid,” Din says. “That’s… how I found him.”

“... Right,” Skywalker says. “I heard about that… story.”

Din looks down at the kid. _Guilt._ He makes a mental note to ask later.

“I’m guessing that Gideon had him before,” Skywalker says. “He would’ve been in the Empire’s custody. He could’ve seen any number of things—I don’t know if Gideon is Force-sensitive or not, but Darth Vader was known for using Force chokes.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Somehow, he ended up wherever you found him.”

Kuiil squirms. His breath is uneven, almost panicky. Din looks down at him and straightens. “Ari,” he says. “Step out with him.”

The kid squeaks. Letting go is the last thing Din wants to do but he doesn’t want to talk about this in front of him. And they _have_ to talk about this. Kuiil digs his claws in as deep as he can and whimpers.

 _“Buir,_ no,” he pleads. “No!”

“Not for long,” Din says. He sighs—he doesn’t have the energy to fight with him about it. “Kuiil—“

“I saw Gideon! I saw him! I heard him!”

Din freezes. “You… what? When?”

Kuiil then stops. He twists to look at Skywalker, who gives him a nod. “Tell them,” he says. “Only what you’re comfortable with.”

Kuiil looks up at Din, then, and there’s a beat of silence. “I… had another vision,” he says. “It—It was scary. But…” He takes a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” Din murmurs. “Take a second. Say what you mean.”

He does. He is quiet for a moment, then shifts in Din’s arms and looks up, this time with his expression more determined. “I… I _think_ it was Gideon,” he says. “It… I saw a lot. A lot of stuff. But there was one… It was somewhere different. There were stormtroopers. There was someone in black, and he--he said I did a good job. He called me ‘pet’.”

Din is silent. Someone calling his _ad’ika_ ‘pet’ makes his skin crawl.

“And I saw… you. With me. I was a baby and you were holding me and killing stormtroopers.”

That’s enough for Din’s arms to tighten around him.

“I heard a voice, talking. Saying that—he said your _name._ That you were trying to hide the… the _asset_ from him. What’s an asset?”

“It’s…” Din frowns. “It’s like a bounty. Something important. Y...You were the asset.”

Kuiil looks at Paz, who looks back at him. “He said he was going to destroy the covert,” he whispers. “With the… a… it was something. Saber. But not a lightsaber. It was… _dah.”_ He looks at Din. “The… Darksaber?”

They fall into silence. None of the Mandalorians move, frozen as statues.

“The Darksaber,” Paz whispers. “Gideon has the Darksaber?”

Din doesn’t speak. He takes long, deep breaths to keep himself calm. Kuiil stares up at him with nervous eyes before pressing close. _“Buir?”_ he says.

“What is the Darksaber?” Skywalker asks.

“A Mandalorian relic,” Paz says. “It’s sacred to us.”

“It’s a symbol of our leader,” Ari says. “It should… it should’ve been wielded by Bo-Katan Kryze. But…”

“The Purge,” Paz growls. “Gideon would’ve taken it after the Purge.”

Din stares at the table. “I should’ve checked,” he says, his voice dropping to a low hiss. “I should’ve looked. I should’ve made _sure_ he was dead. We would already have the Darksaber back and we wouldn’t still be hiding from the fucking Imp—“

Kuiil squeaks.

“Any one of us should have checked,” Paz says. “Damn it! Of course blowing him out of the sky wasn’t enough. As if we’re that lucky.”

Din holds Kuiil tightly.

“We have to take it back,” Ari says. Din and Paz look at her. “... What? Like there’s another choice? The Darksaber belongs to Mandalorians. If Gideon has it, we have to take it.”

“We have to tell the matriarch,” Din mutters.

“We have to tell the whole tribe,” Paz says. “... It changes things. There’s no being cautious and defensive, not when that bastard has the Darksaber. Everyone will want to go after it.”

Maz clears her throat. “Mandalorians,” she says. “That’s a matter for your tribe to discuss. We need to focus on Kuiil for now. If there’s a chance that he has repressed memories of being influenced by the dark side, those are risks we have to deal with for his sake.”

Din takes a deep breath. “Repressed memories,” he says. “If those are things he can’t remember—it’s 50 years we don’t know about. What is there to do about it?”

Skywalker looks at him, his expression thoughtful. “There’s methods of using the Force to access memories,” he says. “Methods that… I’ll admit I’m not too familiar with yet. But with meditation, he and I both could work to access them.”

Din frowns. “You want to go searching around in his _mind.”_

“With his help.”

“It’s still his mind!”

“It’s not to do damage,” Skywalker says. “It may not work. But if there’s a chance we can understand what’s been done to him--it would help in keeping him safe from influence by knowing what he may be susceptible to. It could give _both_ of you peace of mind about his past.”

“No,” Din says. _“No._ I’m not giving him to you so you can do whatever you want to him.”

“It’s not so I can hurt him,” Skywalker says. “He’s a _child,_ I wouldn’t--this would only help.”

“Why should I trust that?”

“I--Look, I regret my approach. It was… more than misguided. But I didn’t harm him and returned him of my own choosing. Asking to trust me is a great--”

“Trust you?” Paz demands. “You took a _foundling.”_

Skywalker pauses. “I don’t know what a foundling--”

“Mandalorians value their children as much as their weapons.” Maz jumps in with a sense of urgency. “Kuiil is a foundling. It is why I insisted you come here with the boy. It’s the only reason you’re alive to talk about this--they would have simply killed you otherwise.”

Skywalker is tense, but he takes the words with surprising calm. “... I see,” he says. “I’m… afraid there’s not as much information on your people as there should be.”

Din doesn’t answer.

“Mando,” Maz says, eyes turning to Din. “The dark side is not something to take chances with. Not when you want to protect him. I know what you’re feeling and the anger is more than justified after what’s happened. But your honor and pride shouldn’t be in the way of protecting Kuiil.”

Din sets his jaw, scowling beneath the helmet. “I don’t see why we need him,” he says. “Gideon has the Darksaber. If we go after him and kill him--Kuiil will be safe.”

“But Gideon isn’t the dark side,” Skywalker says. “If Gideon’s dead, Kuiil is only physically safe. The forces of darkness don’t rest. There can also be another, as much as I’m trying to keep that from happening.” He looks at Kuiil, a hesitant expression on his face. “And if he fell…”

“He’d be dangerous,” Ari completes. “He’d be really dangerous.”

Kuiil buries against Din as tightly as he can.

“Let’s take a break,” Maz says, cutting through the tension. “This is all quite gloom. We can eat and discuss this again when emotions have calmed, yes?”

There’s a mumble of agreement. Ari is quick to get up to stretch, while Paz stares down at his hands--Din knows that only the Darksaber is on his mind now. Din cradles Kuiil, whose presence is nothing short of distressed in his mind.

 _Would you let him do that to you?_ he asks. _Let him look for memories?_

 _He won’t hurt me,_ Kuiil responds.

Din takes a deep breath. He looks up at Skywalker, who’s begun speaking with Maz in low tones. He watches him for a moment, then looks to Paz. “Take him,” he says.

Paz looks over. Kuiil makes a whine, but this time when Din moves him away, he doesn’t cry out or cling. Paz takes Kuiil into his arms, a soft _“Vod’ad”_ being murmured before Kuiil jumps to grab onto him, just as tight.

“Skywalker,” Din says. He stands up.

The jedi looks over.

“Outside.”

Skywalker frowns, but after a moment, stands up as well. Maz gives Din a warning expression, then nods to Skywalker. Both start walking for the door.

 _“Vod’ika,”_ Paz says, reaching out to grab Din’s arm. _“Narudar.”_

“I know,” Din mutters.

He and Skywalker walk to the front door of the castle. Din opens the door and gestures him through. Skywalker gives him a side look before stepping through, out onto the stone half-circle before the stairs. Din follows and shuts the door behind him. He steps forward to be on the same line as Skywalker, which seems to put the _jetii_ at more ease.

Overhead, the flags flutter in the breeze.

“I understand why you don’t want me anywhere near Kuiil’s mind,” Skywalker starts. “I couldn’t expect anything less, not when--”

Din slams his fist into Skywalker’s cheek.

The jedi stumbles in surprise, a slight misstep sending him down the stairs. It’s a short but painful fall and Skywalker catches himself at the bottom, snapping around in an instant to face Din.

His hand reaches for his lightsaber on his belt, gripping it.

Din doesn’t move, standing at the top of the steps.

They stare at each other. 

Skywalker slowly releases the saber and begins to get up.

Din watches. He flexes his hand. “You took my kid,” he growls. “You left me for dead and ran across the galaxy with him. I don’t give a _damn_ about your apology--if our matriarch hadn’t ordered otherwise and we were anywhere else, I’d have killed you already.”

Skywalker stares at him, then brushes off the dust from his robes. “Which I’m glad for,” he says. “I am.”

They fall silent. Din stares at him.

“You think he can become a… dark jedi,” he says.

“A sith,” Skywalker says. “A sith lord.”

“Do you have any actual faith in this memory idea?”

“I’ve never had reason to do it. It would be a learning process.” Skywalker touches his cheek. “But that, with meditation—it would be less teaching, more exploratory. Seeing what’s already there, not trying to add or remove anything.”

Din frowns. “Why can’t Maz do it?”

“Maz is powerful in her own right. She could probably teach me things I haven’t thought of. But this would require more than a few days every once in a while. It could take stretches of time close together before we could make progress.”

“You want to have him for long term.”

“For those stretches, yes.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Skywalker sighs. “We have to figure something out, Mando.”

“Something that doesn’t mean me giving up my son to someone who’s already kidnapped him once.”

Skywalker frowns. “Fine. How much are you willing to allow?”

Din looks at him. He looks up at the flags, waving in the breeze, and at the statue of Maz in the center. The walls of the castle feel even taller as they surround them.

“Here,” he says. “If you’re going to train him, you do it here.”

Skywalker looks up at the castle. “I have a temple, on--”

“I don’t care. Here,” Din says. “Maz is here. You seem to respect her. It’s only a few hours from our covert. And Kuiil is familiar with this place.”

Skywalker is quiet. “I can’t just leave my students for--”

“I _don’t care._ You asked what I’d allow. This is it.”

For a moment, they only look at each other.

“You train him here,” Din continues. “We can stay here for periods of time. We’re already used to it.”

“We,” Skywalker repeats. “I… just need the child.”

“We. I’m not leaving him here alone. That’s not an option. Maz would train me as well, when we stayed.”

“... Train you.” Skywalker stares at him. “Are… you--I didn’t think you were--”

“--No,” Din says quickly. “I’m not… sensitive. But the kid made a… Force bond with me when he was a baby. He was getting in my head. Maz trained me to make shields to keep him out.”

“You have shields,” Skywalker says. “That… explains it. Resisting the mind trick.”

They only look at each other for a moment.

“I’m not negotiating for the kid,” Din says. “He’s not a thing _to_ negotiate. I’ll bring him here to train when you need, out of concern for him and this… influence. But no more than that.” He makes fists at his sides. “Kuiil trusts you. I don’t know why.”

Skywalker nods.

“Step a damn toe out of line with this and I’ll put a bolt through your skull,” Din says. “No questions asked.”

“Understood,” Skywalker says.

Behind Din, the door creaks open. He doesn’t turn, a small _“Ba’vodu?”_ enough for him to know it’s Ari.

“What?” he asks.

“Just… checking,” she says. “They were a bit… concerned. That you might’ve killed him.”

“No,” Din says. “Just coming to an understanding.”

He turns and walks to the door. Ari steps back for him. They step back inside, and Skywalker follows from behind as they approach the table.

Paz is standing with Kuiil in his arms, both murmuring in quiet Mando’a until they approach. Paz’s helmet tracks them, his grip on Kuiil tight, but Kuiil coos and reaches for Din. _“Buir!”_

“I’m here,” Din says. He takes the kid into his arms. “I’m here.”

Kuiil snuggles in against him. Ari steps up to them, the four Mandalorians forming a tight group.

“When do we tell the _aliit?”_ she asks.

“We’ll send a message from the _Crest,”_ Paz says. “So the matriarch knows. We’ll discuss it as a group when we return.”

“Discuss?” Ari frowns. “You mean discuss how we’re going to get it back?”

“We can’t rush in on an Imperial base,” Paz says.

“We have the coordinates. Karga gave them.”

“But we don’t exactly have the firepower,” Din says.

“We pushed Gideon out of Nevarro!” Ari says.

“14 able-bodied, trained fighters are good when we have the element of surprise and already know the turf,” Din says. “This is different. This is attacking a location we don’t know inside and out.”

“So we recon,” Ari says. “I’d go. Scope the place out. Dune would help us. It’s not like we haven’t earned friends!”

“It’s not for us to decide,” Paz says. “It’s a clan decision.”

“We’d need to bulk up more,” Din says. “We’d need more firepower than what we have. Only so many fighters--we need more numbers.”

Paz’s head jerks to the side. Ari and Din look at him. “How about a _jetii?”_

Din follows his gaze to Skywalker, who has sat down again. Din watches him for a moment.

“Hey,” he calls out. “You want to protect the kid?”

Skywalker looks up at him, brows furrowed.

“Help us take down Gideon, and we’ll call it even.”

Maz sends the Mandalorians out with a container of food each, insisting that it not go to waste. Their growling stomachs won’t complain.

“Thank you,” Din says to her. Kuiil is balanced on his pauldron, exactly where he should be. “For everything you’ve ever done for us.”

“Thank you for not making a mess when he walked through the door,” Maz says. She looks at Kuiil. “... I’m glad you’re willing to try the memory retrieval.”

Din turns and looks at where Ari and Paz stand near the fountain, waiting. He looks back at her. “I don’t trust him,” he says. “I’d still rather see a bolt straight through his face than let him come near us.”

“Hmph,” Maz says, amused. “It would be deserved.”

 _“Buir,”_ Kuiil mumbles, a hand pulling at his cape. 

Din reaches up and puts a hand on Kuiil’s back, then nods to Maz. “We’ll be planning this for some time,” he says.

Maz nods. “Reach out when you want to meet with Skywalker,” she says. “Sooner, the better.”

“You trust him?” he asks.

“His intentions? Yes,” she says. “That one has seen many things. His eyes tell quite a tale. He is young and not entirely experienced in these matters--I think he understands now the errors he has made.”

Din frowns. “I don’t have to like him.”

Maz smiles. “I don’t imagine you would. Farewell, Clan Djarin.”

Din nods and turns, walking down the stairs. Paz and Ari look over, then begin walking with him out of the castle’s courtyard. They step out and into the open air; into view comes Skywalker’s X-wing, the man himself leaning against it as he waits.

He looks up as the Mandalorians approach, then stands. Paz gives Din an elbow. “Where’d that bruise on his face come from?” he mutters, accusatory. Din makes a noise in his throat but doesn’t answer.

They stop several paces away. “We have to discuss things with our people first,” Din says. “We’ll contact you through Maz to let you know what’s decided.”

Skywalker nods. “And the training, too?”

“Right. However it all works out.”

Skywalker nods again, then his eyes shift to Kuiil and he smiles. “Goodbye,” he says.

“Bye!” Kuiil says. Then he perks up. _“Ret’urcye mhi!_ That’s goodbye.”

Skywalker smiles. “We’ll add it to the list,” he says.

“Can you--can you say goodbye to Yoda for me?” he asks. “And--and Ob… Obi…”

“Obi-Wan,” Skywalker supplies, grinning. “Yes, I’ll tell them you said so.”

The jedi gives them a nod and turns to his ship. The Mandalorians turn and begin walking towards the _Crest’s_ spot. Din glances towards Kuiil. “Who were you saying bye to?”

Kuiil smiles. “They’re jedi,” he says. “They’re ghosts!”

“I--” Din stops himself. Some things aren’t to be questioned. He just reaches up and pulls Kuiil down into his arms, earning a squeak from the boy. “You’re not a jedi.”

Kuiil giggles and presses against Din’s cuirass. “No,” he says. “I’m a _Mando.”_

They continue on. The _Razor Crest_ comes into sight. Din taps on his controls, ordering the hatch to lower, and Kuiil shifts to get comfortable in his arms.

Paz breaks the silence with disbelief.

“Were you teaching him _Mando’a?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Cin vhetin -- blank slate; anything done before the Creed is irrelevant, only what you do after.  
> Mando'ade -- Mandalorians (sons/daughters of Mandalore)  
> Naak -- peace  
> Kadala -- wounded/hurt  
> Shupur'yc -- injured  
> Vod'ad -- nephew (sibling's child)  
> Vod'ika -- little brother  
> Narudar -- temporary ally ("enemy of my enemy", a pact of convenience rather than permanence). In this case, Paz reminding Din to play nice.  
> Aliit -- clan/family  
> Ret’urcye mhi -- goodbye (lit. maybe we'll meet again)
> 
> I didn't intend to set up another fic like this, but... it happened. I can't not write it. So... stay tuned for this to continue.
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:  
> Vod'ad - niece/nephew  
> Ba'vodu -- aunt/uncle  
> Cuy ogir'olar -- it's irrelevant  
> Ogir -- there  
> Slanar -- go  
> Tsikador -- prepare  
> Bral -- hill fort, high ground, high defended position  
> Payt -- left  
> Utrel'a -- all clear  
> Ad'ika -- little one/son/daughter  
> Buir -- mother/father  
> kir'manir -- to adopt  
> Mando'ade -- sons/daughters of Mandalore  
> beskar'gam -- armor  
> Gai bal manda -- adoption ceremony  
> Cin vhetin -- blank slate (what you did before the Creed doesn't matter)  
> Yaim -- home
> 
> All chapters have been written (besides chapter 5, currently, but i have the ending planned enough! 
> 
> Come chat on the [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N) and follow me on [tumblr!](https://coffeequill.tumblr.com/)


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